What I Should Do
by Thalion Estel
Summary: A girl sees Rue get selected in the Reaping and can't stand to be silent. But volunteering in Rue's place is only the beginning of a very tough journey for Amaranth, who wants to be victorious without becoming a part of the Games.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of its characters, settings, and plots.**

 **Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a legitimate Hunger Games story, as well as my first shot at first person, present tense. I am very eager to hear from my dear readers what you think, both compliments and constructive criticism. Because the writing will always be ahead of the posting, reviews will also remind me to update.** **Please note that this is mostly book-verse with movie-verse thrown in occasionally for the ease of the story.** **So, without further ado, here is my tale.**

 **. . .**

As the sun's first morning rays stream through my window, my eyes flutter open and I yawn. I have slept surprisingly well for the night before the Reaping; I only awoke once that I can recall. I do not fear this day as much as most of District 11's young population does, but I am still very nervous. I remind myself that I am fortunate; though I am seventeen, I have never had to apply for the tesserae, so my name is only in the drawing five times. Considering the amount of people in 11, I think the odds are in my favor.

But what are the odds, really? It is obvious to most that the odds have never really determined anything of importance. Usually the greatest things are also those which are unexpected, the hope that comes while all despair of such a possibility. That thought brings a smile to my lips, but not for long. My philosophy will not make the Reaping go away.

I hear my mother call from the other room, and I quickly dress in my nicest clothes. I enter the center of the house, our main room, and plop down at the colorless table, awaiting a meager breakfast. My mother comes to the table, carrying several bowls of the same bland, watery oatmeal we have every morning. She sets them down and looks at me, forcing a smile. The rings around her eyes reveal that she had little sleep last night.

"Good morning, Amaranth," she says as pleasantly as she can manage.

I only nod in response and begin to stir the contents of my bowl purposelessly. But I will need this food today, especially considering how much I will probably sweat and shake. I let out a sigh and shovel my breakfast into my mouth.

My father now makes his first appearance, walking in from his tiny bedroom and giving me his genuine, joyful smile. Nothing ever fazes him; he is the rock of the family. He takes a couple steps towards my mothers and lightly kisses her lips.

"How are you this morning, Amaranth?" he asks me as he sits beside me. "Get much sleep?"

I nod. "Woke up once, but otherwise it was good."

"Lucky for you," a voice says from behind. I turn to look at the speaker, but I already know that it's my older sister, Emmer. "I never got a wink back when I was in the Reaping."

Emmer is now twenty, out of danger of being reaped. I remember when she came home after her final Reaping day a couple years ago, her face so full of joy and hope. I was too inattentive at the age of twelve to notice when my brother, who has long been married and out of the house, "escaped" the Hunger Games, but I am sure that he was just as glad, too. I wonder what it will be like next year when I come home and the family is finally free from the shadow of the Reaping.

"Well," I say, returning my mind to the present, "perhaps you've made up that sleep since then."

Emmer attempts to laugh, but despite all she's said, I know she is tense, too. We all are, and I know that the feeling won't go away until I walk back into the door, safe and sound. I can't even imagine what it was like for my parents when they had three children eligible for the Games at the same time. And what about the other families with more kids? Some have five or six who could be reaped today. How terrible this morning must be for them.

After breakfast is over, I return to my room and put on my shoes, tie up my hair, and look into the mirror. I favor my mom in most of my physical features. I have tan, not quite brown skin, something that is fairly rare in District 11, but I have the chocolate eyes that all my neighbors boast. My hair is long and wavy—not truly curly, but almost so—and my body is fairly slim. This is actually a benefit for me, because although I don't store my food as well as a girl of stockier build, I can harvest the fruits of the orchard more easily than most.

I finally step away from the mirror and head back into the main room. I know I must leave now and head for the justice building, but I want to look over the place one last time. A sense of foreboding stirs in my bones, and I am suddenly afraid. I look around at the faces of my family, taking in all the details that I can. My mother comes over to me and hugs me tightly, rocking slightly back and forth. I am her baby; always will be, I guess.

"You'll be just fine," she whispers in my ear, just as much for her assurance as mine. "You're going to be okay."

"Thanks, mom," I say back as I step out of her warm, safe arms and towards the door. "I'll see you after it's over," I declare as fearlessly as I can to all in the room. My three family members nod, and before I can take time to think about the situation and start crying, I walk outside and shut the door.

The walk to the justice building seems longer than normal, and I now wish I hadn't insisted yesterday that I take it alone. At the time, I had not wanted to have to say goodbye at the square, but now I would give a lot for some company. There are a few others on the dirty roads who are making their way towards the Reaping, but they all walk silently with their eyes fixed on the ground.

After almost forty minutes, I arrive at the long line where my blood is to be drawn. The air is quite warm by now, and I know that by the time the names are drawn, it will be uncomfortably hot. I search for a spot in the line that has shade, but there are none, so I simply fall into the group closest to me and advance at a snail's pace for half an hour.

An emotionless woman takes my hand when I reach the front of the line, pricks my finger, and stamps it onto her record book. I wince slightly as I pull my hand away, but the pain is very minimal. Each year at harvest time, I spend all day in the tops of trees; cuts are not uncommon for me.

Now comes the worst waiting of all, and as I find a place to stand with girls my age until the Reaping, I feel the terrible weight in my gut of ice-cold fear. Every year I think I have never felt something so consuming and terrible as this kind of fear, but then each Reaping seems worse than the last. This year I do have something I could be fixing my eyes on, something transcendent to the Games to cling to, but it feels distant at this moment. Since the object of my thoughts is very illegal and in this state I am liable to say anything if startled, I shove it from my mind and let my fear cause me to shake. It isn't what I should be doing, but I do it anyway. Perhaps that is childish, giving into something when you know it's wrong, but after all, technically I _am_ a child. That's what makes these Reapings so repulsive in the first place, isn't it?

The square begins to fill up very slowly, and the people at my sides press against me, making my skin even more hot than I already was with just the sun's oppressive light. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the cries of fright that come from the large group of twelve year olds, but my ears hear them anyway, and my stomach twists itself in knots. Will this never end?

Finally, all the children are present, filling up the square and several blocks all around. I wonder briefly is this crowded result is even legal, but since the speakers loudly project the names every year, I am sure it doesn't really matter to the officials. The district's escort makes her way up to the microphone on the stage and welcomes everyone to the annual Reaping for the Hunger Games with her usual accent and enthusiasm.

"And may the odds," she coos, "be _ever_ in your favor."

The propaganda video that the Capitol plays every year starts up on the screen, and I clench my teeth together as the lies float from the speakers over the crowd. There are just enough facts about history to make the Capitol's reasons sound plausible, but anyone who has watched the Hunger Games knows better. This is not political, this is not honorable, and this is certainly not a holiday. This is murder.

The screen fades to black and then reinserts the feed from the various cameras as the escort comes to the microphone again, her vacant smile too big to be real. She makes some comments that I don't listen to about how touching the video was, and then she gets down to business.

"Ladies first," she chirps, her heels clicking as she struts to the massive glass ball containing thousands upon thousands of names of innocent children.

I clench my hands into fists and bite down on my lip until I taste blood. _Please don't let it be me!_ I pray silently. _Not me, not me, not me!_ The air seems sucked out of the square. No one moves, and I can easily hear the slip of paper open. My heart feels like it will burst. _Just read the name!_ I want to scream.

"Rue Meldar," the escort announces, her lips pursed and her eyes scanning the crowd for the victim.

For a moment, all that I can hear is a few shrieks from the youngest group of girls. A mother begins to weep openly from the crowd somewhere, but I still can't see the girl who was called. Then, after a few moments in which the child was probably in stunned shock, a small figure emerges from the mass of people and slowly mounts the stairs to the stage.

My jaws part and my brows crease slightly as my heart groans within me. Rue is so young! She reminds me of a flower bud which has just begun to open, but is not yet ready to put out its petals. Anger soon kindles in my spirit as I think of the death which surely awaits her in the Arena. How _dare_ the Capitol destroy such a fresh flower?

"Ah yes, just stand right here, dearie," the escort instructs as Rue makes it to the top of the stage. "Now, do we have any volunteers?"

It is dead silent for a few moments. Rue has no one to go in her place; no one to save her from the horrors of the Games. Then suddenly, without any prior thought or consideration, I realize that I should to be that person. I should go in her place, bearing the burden that he Capitol wished to place on her young shoulders. It's what I should do.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I say loudly, my voice cracking since my throat is so dry. I raise my hand so that I will be acknowledged and repeat the line more steadily. "I volunteer as tribute!"

 **. . .**

 **What did you think? Please leave me a review! The next installment will probably come sooner if you give me some feedback. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here's chapter two! A big thanks to those who have reviewed; thank you for the encouragement!**

 **. . .**

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I can't believe what just happened. All morning I have been hoping and praying that I would not be called, and then I volunteer? How insane am I? I hear my mother gasp, and I know that what I have just done will deliver a terrible blow to my family. But I wasn't thinking about them when I volunteered; I was thinking of that poor little girl. And when I lock eyes with Rue, who stands on the stage with a mixed expression of relief and confusion, I don't regret my act.

With a boldness I cannot begin to understand or claim to have created, I walk through the crowd and towards the stage. The full realization of what I have done settles on little Rue, and she lets out a short sob and pulls her hands to her face. Then, in a move I would not have expected, she rushed down the stairs and wraps her thin arms around me, hugging my waist tightly. A peacekeeper steps forward and yanks my arm towards the stage, but Rue looks up at me before I'm dragged off.

"Thank you," she whispers, her face bearing a smile despite the tears running down it. She dashes away and ends up beside a woman who must be her mother and five other small children, all younger than her. I am comforted when I see that family together and know that it is what I have protected.

I reach the top of the stage feeling brave, not allowing myself to think about what the sacrifice I have just made will cost me in only a few short days. I face the crowd and try to keep an emotionless expression, which requires that I not look at my family. Instead, I stare off at a screen that now displays me and let all other thoughts melt away.

"What is your name?" the escort asks me from my right.

"Amaranth Gleaner," I reply.

"Very good," coos the escort. "You are now one of only three volunteers from District Eleven since the beginning of the Hunger Games! How exciting!" Snapping her head back to the audience, the escort returns to her reaping. "Now for the gentlemen."

While she dramatically digs her fingers through the pile of names, I take a chance and look slightly behind me to where the mentors sit. Chaff and Seeder are the only two living victors of District 11, and I know nothing about them. Both are eyeing me curiously, and Seeder even seems to have admiration in her gaze. I wonder what sort of people they are. I suppose I will find out soon enough.

"Thresh Messis," the escort declares loudly, and I look over to size up my fellow tribute. The boy who walks to the stage is massive and strong; I know immediately that he will pose a threat to even the Careers from the wealthier districts. He takes his place and we shake hands, but he keeps his eyes down.

"I give you the tributes from District Eleven!" the escort joyously says. "Amaranth Gleaner and Thresh Messis. We wish them both well. Happy Hunger Games!"

The next several hours pass by far too quickly for my liking. Thresh and I are taken into the justice building and then placed in separate rooms. My family comes, but they don't ask all the questions I thought they would. They simply say their goodbyes and give me lots of love and encouragement. As they are escorted out of the room, my father looks over his shoulder and says, "I am more proud than any parent of a victor," and winks at me. This makes me feel better than all the other nice comments about my bravery because it shows that he approves of what I've done. He knows that that little girl should live longer than me.

To my surprise, I receive another visit. Rue and her mother come briefly into my room and shower me with gratitude and promises to never forget me and to always be ready to help my family. I try to assure them that they don't owe me anything, but my attempts are in vain. And if I were in their position, I can't say that I would accept such a statement either.

Finally I am taken to the train station where Thresh and I wave goodbye to the only home we've ever known. Both of us try to keep from crying, but I can see pain in his eyes, and I am sure it is obvious in mine as well. Our escort hurries us onto the train, and as soon as we're secure in the car, the windows reveal that we are pulling away from District 11.

We are directed straight away to a dinning train car, and although I really want to go to my private room and cry myself out, the smell of the food is too much to resist. I am very hungry; in fact, I'm always hungry, so now that all the worrying surrounding the Reaping is over, I decide that I will eat a meal.

The food is beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I can hardly even understand what most of the dishes are; the only things which are familiar are the bread rolls and the soup, though of course even these two foods are far more delicious than what I've had at home. Thresh and I both stuff ourselves full of the rich stuff, ignoring the comments from our escort, who soon realizes that we don't care what she says and leaves the car.

When we are finishing our meal, our mentors make their first appearance. I think they know that we're not ready to start planning our strategy for the Games, because they only introduce themselves briefly and then tell us to meet them in this car at ten tomorrow. I am grateful that I've been given time to think things over; I don't even know what to think about the Games yet.

In the space of two minutes that the mentors are in our car, I am able to learn a bit about them. Chaff, the male victor, seems slightly drunk, and I suspect that this is his typical condition. I have always been under the impression that being a victor is a very hard life, one plagued with oppressive guilt and memories of death, and Chaff supports my assumption. Seeder is a little more like most women of 11, though I can see a deep sadness in her eyes. She is very kind, and she grins at me and makes a comment about how what I did was "really brave". I decide to trust her.

At last, Thresh and I are shown to our rooms after being told that we will be in the Capitol at about noon tomorrow. Mine is so large compared with the eight by eight space that I'm used to, and after the servant leaves me alone, I spend several minutes just walking around and around the huge space that is going to be mine for the night. I look into all the drawers and investigate all the automatic contraptions. Then, once my curiosity is satisfied, is sit on the soft quilts of the bed and cry.

I cry for a long time, wanting so badly to feel the loving arms of my family around me, to hear my father's voice telling me that everything is going to be okay. But instead there is silence and coldness. I feel utterly alone.

But that is not true, I know. I will never be alone. Those illegal thoughts I shoved aside while I stood at the Reaping reappear in my mind, and I realize how foolish I was to reject them earlier. I should embrace them; they give me hope, even in this terrible circumstance. I rock myself back and forth and wrap the sheets of my bed around me until I calm down. I have to get a hold of myself and prepare myself for what is coming. I need a strategy for the Hunger Games.

I think about it for a while, but there's no easy solution. Murder is wrong; I know this with certainty and can never change my mind about it. But what about killing when it's in self-defense? Is that a moral crime? I am not sure, and if there's anything I hate, it's when things aren't black and white.

I dwell on thoughts of the Games all evening. I consider what to do while I discover the great pleasure of the shower, while I get a late evening snack in the dining car, and when I snuggle underneath my sheets at night. I fall asleep still tossing and turning as I try to figure out how to approach the devilish Arena that awaits me.

I awake with a start, as if I just had a nightmare, though I don't remember what was in it. I am covered with sweat, but I can't seem to stop shaking. I see that it is still before nine in the morning, so I have plenty of time before I have to meet with Seeder and Chaff. I take a long, warm shower to force myself to relax, and as I wrap myself up in a plush towel, drying my hair and combing it out, everything suddenly comes together in my mind, and I know what I should do.

My strategy. It's so simple and obvious that I am ashamed not to have thought of it before. And while I'm pretty sure that it won't please the Gamemakers, I know it may be the only way for me to conquer the Games.

With all my worries melting away and a wonderfully peaceful calm settling over me, I dress in some comfortable clothes and head to the dining car, a pleasant smile on my face.

 **. . .**

 **Don't forget to review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: So sorry that there's been a delay in updating! I had an unexpected trip out of state, and then a combination of work, college preparation, and baseball prevented me from getting caught up until today. ;) Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter! Please be sure to leave some feedback!**

 **. . .**

Thresh and I stand together on our chariot, waiting for the horses to draw us into the tribute parade. I briefly glance at my district partner, again aware of his massive size as he stands so close to me. We are both dressed like farmers, meaning that he looks fairly natural and I look like an idiot. But I am glad for Thresh; the costume suites him, and previously I heard him express some concern to Chaff about what "getup" he would be forced to wear in this parade.

Thresh hasn't spoken one word to me at any point since we were reaped, though I don't think it I should take it as an insult. He is simply quiet, and he knows that we are going to be pitted against each other in only a few days. I have tried to be friendly as much as possible, and I think that deep down, he appreciates it, though on the surface he ignores me. Now he looks into the distance, not mindful of anything except the roar of the crowd that eagerly awaits us.

"You look nice," I say, not making eye contact, but hoping to lighten his spirits a little.

Because Thresh has spent much of his time today with Chaff, who I have discovered to be good at heart but pretty rough around the edges, I want to give put my fellow tribute at ease. As predicted, he only nods, but I think his eyes are less solemn than before, so I consider my attempt a victory.

Finally, the chariot jolts forward and we are drawn onto a long road between two massive slopes, each lined to the top with Capitol citizens. The air is full of their cheering, and I see that cameras are filming the chariots and sending the feed to several screens. Thresh and I appear on the screen for a moment, but then suddenly all attention is deviated elsewhere.

The tributes from District 12 look absolutely stunning. Somehow they are on fire but not burning up. I have no idea how this is possible, but at the moment I don't care. All I can do is look over my shoulder and gape at how gorgeous their fiery complexion is. They hold hands, something that seems to me like a subtle slap in the Capitol's face.

Then I remember who the girl is, and I feel even more excitement. Katniss. That's what the crowd is chanting right now, and that is the name of the girl from District 12 who volunteered for her little sister. I hope that I didn't steal any of her thunder; her sacrifice is just as brave as mine. Ever since I saw the replays of the Reapings, I have wanted to meet Katniss. Now this desire is shared by almost everyone in the Capitol thanks to whoever the brilliant stylist of District 12 is.

When at last the parade is over, Thresh and I are taken to the massive apartment where we will be staying, and after another large meal, I go to bed immediately. I have a sound slumber—something I'd bet a year's wages is rare around here—and get up for breakfast which, as predicted, is huge and wonderful. Then Thresh and I are given some last minute advice and directed to the Training Center.

When the elevator doors open, I take in the environment as I step into the room. Most of the other tributes are already here, gathered around various stations. There are many different weapons available to practice with, and the Careers are mostly on that side of the room. There are also stations that teach about plants, traps, fish hooks, campfires, and every other imaginable survival skill. This is where many of the tributes from the poorer districts are, and I decided to wander to this side of the room. I catch Thresh in the corner of my eye as he goes to toy with some massive weights, but I don't change my course.

I end up beside a table of paints used to practice camouflage, which is right beside the knot-tying station. Katniss, her brown hair in a simple braid that I quickly decide I like, and the blonde boy tribute from her district have begun to tie knots beside me. They are both dressed alike, and I wonder if that and the holding hands in the parade are connected in some way. They don't talk much as they go about their work, but I pick up that the boy's name is Peeta.

After about fifteen minutes, the duo heads over to my station. Peeta is eyeing the paint eagerly, and I wonder if he has experience with some kind of art. I flash the tributes a friendly grim and scoot aside to give them room to work beside me.

"I hope we aren't intruding," Peeta says pleasantly.

"Nope; I am actually honored to be so near the Flames of 12!" I declare with a smile.

"Is that what they're calling us now?" Katniss asks. Her tone is slightly irritated, and I wonder how well _she_ slept last night.

"No. I just made it up," I reply as cheerily as I can. "I really did think your costumes were fantastic, though. And I really admire what you did at the Reaping, Katniss."

At first, Katniss looks glad to have been praised, but then she shrugs it off. "Doesn't mean much coming from you. Unless you're hoping to compliment yourself, that is."

Peeta gives me an apologetic glance, but I don't let the comment faze me. I know that Katniss, like any sensible person in this circumstance, does not want to make friends with anyone. In the Arena, friendships can be deadly to those who hold them.

"I only hope to compliment you," I answer, "though I suppose I don't need to. Everyone else agrees with me, I am sure."

Katniss goes about her work with no further discussion, but Peeta seems more social. While we paint, he ventures to ask me a question without any malice in his voice.

"How did you know the little girl you volunteered for?"

"I didn't," I tell him, awkwardly swirling the brown mess that I've made on my arm.

"What?" Peeta wonders aloud. He actually stops his work and looks at me. "So are you like a Career, then?"

I chuckle and shake my head. "I just couldn't stand it. I couldn't watch that little girl get dragged off to die. I didn't walk out my door that morning with a charitable heart, ready to die for a complete stranger; it's just that in the moment when the girl got reaped, I suddenly knew that volunteering was what I should do. I couldn't even believe I'd done it when I got on stage. Maybe it was a mistake, and maybe I'll die for it, but it's better I die than the little girl."

It's quiet for several minutes after that, all three of working hard on our camouflage. Mine has not improved, and it looks rather like a big mess than something I have actually spent time on. I think to myself that maybe my globs of paint could blend with mud, but that's where the possibilities end. I absentminded glance in Peeta's direction and am shocked to find that his arm is perfected painted to look like a tree trunk. It even has the light and shadows taken into account. I blink a few times to see if my eyes are deceiving me, but the realistic picture remains.

"How did you do that?" I ask in disbelief. Katniss seems surprised, too. And who wouldn't be? It really appears that his arm is growing a layer of bark.

"I used to ice the cakes at the bakery," Peeta explains. "This isn't too different from the icing we used."

"If only you could frost someone to death," Katniss says blandly.

"That would be a good way to go," I remark with a laugh. "Might as well die in pure happiness, right?"

This earns a smile even from Katniss. That makes me even happier; I have finally penetrated the barriers she has set up. I know that she will never allow me to be her friend, but when I'm stuck in the Hunger Games, a tolerable acquaintance is more than would have been expected.

I hope I don't have to watch the duo from District 12 die.

 **. . .**

 **Please be sure to review! Thanks so much for reading; hopefully the next chapter will be up soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Response to SibunaMockingjay: Advice? Well, let me think. Looking over my own high school experience, I'd say one big thing for me was reading. My worldview class got me into reading some of the classics as well as books on philosophy and theology. While those may sound boring, I cannot stress how much good they've done me. If you want some recommendations, I'd be glad to give those. So basically don't just take ideas for granted. Dive into the reasons that people do or say things, because you may find some very interesting roots that will make you have a wiser outlook on life. Worldview is so important, and getting a foundation now will help you when you're bombarded by both nonsense and truth in college and beyond. Don't be nervous! By God's grace, you'll pass the test of school with flying colors, I'm sure. If you had any other kind of specific advice that you wanted, be sure to let me know! Thanks so much for the review!**

 **Author's Note: And here's chapter four! This was pretty difficult to write, and I'd really appreciate some feedback about whether or not I did a good job writing people in character. Thanks for reading!**

 **. . .**

Time goes by surprisingly quickly. During the precious hours after lunch and then all the next day, I work at various tasks throughout the Training Center. I spend a lot of time studying skills that will help me use the environment to survive, but I do practice with a few weapons, swords in particular. I am able to maintain a friendly air with the tributes from 12, and I develop a bit of tolerance with the boy from 10 and the girl from 5, but nothing like a real friendship comes into being. I try to be kind to everyone, but most of the children are cold and unwilling to accept my compliments or advice.

When the morning of the last day of training arrives, I am nervous. I have no idea what to do in front of the Gamemakers. I have confided in Seeder about my strategy, and although it took some convincing, she is now on board with me. But because my plan is so unusual, she doesn't know how to advise me to perform for the Gamemakers.

"In the end, I don't think your score will matter much if you act according to your plan," Seeder tells me after thinking about the issue. "If you want to keep your strategy under wraps, then I would suggest you do what the other kids will be doing."

I nod, deciding that this is the best course of action. Thresh and I wait in a room of the Training Center for our names to be called until all but Peeta and Katniss remain with us. Thresh's name is read over the intercom and I wish him luck as he heads out to his session. I wonder what he will do to impress the Gamemakers. I don't talk to the boy and girl from 12 while I wait; I can sense their trepidation, and I'm not exactly calm either.

In about twenty minutes, the speakers burst to life as an emotionless voice calls my name. I stand, let out a slow breath, and walk to the room where the Gamemakers wait to see how likely I am to survive. They seem to have been interested during Thresh's demonstration, though they are becoming distracted by food while I look around for something to toy with.

To grab their attention right off the bat, I start by showing my decent skills with a sword. I also throw a blade or two and fire a slingshot. Then I move on to take a test on plants, which I ace easily, and make a fire. All in all, my performance didn't reveal my expertise in anything but plants, though it did show that I have become fairly well-rounded. Good enough for me.

The whole group supporting 11, including mentors, escorts, prep teams, and tributes, is very excited when Thresh receives a score of ten. It does not truly surprise me; he is so big and strong that he's got more than a good shot of winning these Games. I am flattered when I scrounge up a seven, and everyone tells me that a seven is plenty high enough to get sponsors. My strategy for the Arena does not require sponsors, but since I don't really care about wasting rich people's money, it doesn't bother me that some may buy me things even if I don't want them. Besides, maybe they'll just send me food; that I would definitely accept.

The following morning, Seeder and I try to decide how we want me to approach the interview with Caesar Flickerman. I am terrified of public appearances, and while I was spared paralyzing fear when on stage at the Reaping due to everything else that was in my mind, tonight will not be so easy. She tells me that most tributes try to act a certain way so that they can be defined: bold, cool, innocent, murderous, or other attributes. I try to answer her using several different character strategies, but I am not satisfied with any of them.

"Why does it really matter?" I ask in frustration after we've been at the practice for over an hour. "I don't want any sponsors, and I don't care what the Capitol thinks of me!"

"It _does_ matter," insisted Seeder gently. "If nothing else, it will cement an image of you into the other tributes' minds. And they're pretty important to your plan, right?"

"I suppose," I admit with a sigh. "But the necessity of a good interview doesn't make it suddenly come naturally to me."

"Well, maybe we're trying the wrong tactic," suggests Seeder. "If this is all about the tributes, then you need to decide how you want them to see you."

I think about that for a minute. If I am going to use the tributes for my strategy, then at least some of them have to trust me. I consider all the ways I could act so that people would trust me, but in the end, I settle on the most logical choice.

"I'll try being a slightly wittier version of my normal self. That at least won't bomb in the interview, and it will be easy to keep up in the Arena. Plus it's what the tributes have already seen in training."

Seeder slowly nods after a moment of thought. "Let's see how it comes out."

We practice the questions some more, and now it is much better. I am relieved to not have to think about a technique while I answer. After about thirty minutes of this, we decide officially to stick with my own personality. From there, I head off to try on my gown and learn how to walk and sit properly in it. The dress is very pretty; a light blue color with minimal flare. I like it, and I make up my mind not to be nervous about the interview.

I fail. When the boy from 10, the only person between me and Caesar, is called to the stage, I am shaking like a leaf. There are too many lights, too many yelling fans, and too many questions to answer. What if I mess up? Even if it isn't vital to my strategy to make a good impression, I don't want to look like an idiot in front of everyone in Panem. I take in several quick breaths and try to let them out slowly, but it doesn't help.

"You'll do great," a voice behind me says.

I turn around in surprise, not expected to receive any encouragement while in the Capitol except perhaps from Seeder or my reflection in the mirror. The speaker is Peeta, and he sends me a kind smile that I return. He looks completely cool and unafraid; one would think he gave speeches professionally. But for some reason, his comment gives me some bravery, and when it's my turn, I'm not worried about passing out any more.

"From District Eleven, Amaranth Gleaner!" Caesar announces in his iconic voice, waving me on stage.

I take slow, careful steps into the gaze of thousands of people and sit in my chair, looking towards the audience and praying that I can get through the interview without messing up. I smooth out the skirt of my dress and await the first question, which seems to take years to exit Caesar's mouth.

"So, Amaranth," he begins, "we all saw that you volunteered for that cute little girl during the Reaping." He pauses to let that sink in. "Did you know her?"

"No, I didn't," I answer, trying to keep from being monotone.

"Does that mean that you wanted to go to the Games, like your fellow tributes from 1, 2, and 4? Do you have some sort of strategy?"

I decide to be evasive here to make things sound a little more interesting. It takes me a few seconds to articulate my thoughts when so many eyes are staring at me, but finally I have an answer.

"I wasn't really planning to volunteer and come to the Games; it was a very sudden decision, but I guess you could say that I do have a very interesting strategy. If all goes according to plan, it is quite possible that by the end, I will have won glory that none of the victors from previous Games can match."

Caesar acts like my comments have been extremely brave and confident, though my tone was hardly very strong. He looks to the crowd, which is clapping and yelling loudly, and nods slowly as if for emphasis. "Wow; it looks like the girl from 11 has some pretty high goals, folks!"

I grin modestly and shrug my shoulders, becoming a bit more bold. "You can't aim too high in the Hunger Games, can you?"

Caesar lets out one of his trademark laughs that my sister had always said sounded like an angry duck. I am able to smile wider when I remember her description of the man across from me, and I tell myself that she's watching me right now and thinking of me every day. That makes me feel much better, almost like she's on stage right now. Maybe I am getting over my fear of public appearances.

"No, I don't think you can aim too high," he finally answers my comment, bringing my mind back to the interview. "I like your confidence."

I let out a laugh, which fortunately doesn't come out sounding too nervous or too forced. "I said I was aiming high; I didn't say the odds were very much in my favor."

The audience gives a drawn out _aww_ , and Caesar suddenly switches to comforter. "But you did get a seven in the training; that's a good score. Surely you have better odds than you grant."

I shrug again and smile again. I wonder if my limited gestures reflect my lack of talent at speeches. Hopefully the audience doesn't notice. "I guess I do."

"And the odds aren't always right," adds Caesar.

I stop as I think about that, recalling the morning of the Reaping. _It is obvious to most that the odds have never really determined anything of importance_ , I said. I sure hope I was right.

"They certainly don't determine everything," I reply at last.

"And let's hope that if your odds are lower than you'd like, you'll be able to rise above them," Caesar says in a concluding manner. "Let's hear it for Amaranth from District Eleven!"

The crowd roars for me, and I smile and dip my head towards them as I stand. I shake Caesar's hand and walk off stage, again using careful steps so that I don't trip over my ridiculous high-heeled shoes. Seeder is waiting for me with a big grin, and I know that I have survived the interview.

"You did very well," she praises. "I think the others will have a good image of you for the Games."

I am glad she thinks so, and I grin at her comment. But neither of us wants to discuss the interview further while there are still others going on, so we stop talking and move to the nearest screen to see how Thresh is doing.

He plays an angle of concealed strength, and I think he does really well. The crowd seems quite happy with him, and since Caesar is so good at getting people to talk comfortably, Thresh doesn't come across as too quiet or reserved, though his words are still few and far between. When he exits the stage, I give him a thumbs-up and he gives me a small smile.

I watch Katniss' interview and realize that we're more alike that I had thought. She appears pretty nervous at first, and she also doesn't seem to have a set characteristic to shoot for in her answers. She gets quite a bit of points with the audience when Caesar talks about her volunteering for her sister, and I'm glad I didn't let my interview cross into that territory too much, as that would have taken away from Katniss.

Peeta was born to speak in public, and he breezes through the interview with ease. But he leaves everyone in shock when, at the end of his session, he reveals that he is in love with his fellow tribute, Katniss. At first, I am sure that this must be a tactic geared towards getting sponsors, but looking more closely at Peeta's expression, I am less sure. He seems very sincere.

"Come on, Amaranth," I hear Seeder say. "You need as much sleep as possible before the Games tomorrow."

I shake the drama of District 12 from my mind and head back with Seeder, Thresh, and Chaff to our apartments. What Seeder said was true, and amidst all the excitement, I had almost managed to forget it.

I will be in the Arena tomorrow morning.

 **. . .**

 **Please remember to leave a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Response to SibunaMockingjay: I'm glad that my advice is encouraging, and thank** _ **you**_ **for your encouraging review! In regard to reading suggestions, my very top one would be Francis Schaeffer's book called** _ **How Should We Then Live**_ **, which is also made into a short TV series (albeit a very low budget one) which you might be able to find on Youtube, though I'm not sure. It is short, simple, pretty easy to understand, and it contains so much excellent truth. Schaeffer was a genius. :) A few others would be** _ **The God Who Is There**_ **which is also by Schaeffer,** _ **Total Truth**_ **by Nancy Pearcey,** _ **The Soul of Science**_ **by Pearcey and Thaxton, and** _ **Economics in One Lesson**_ **by Hazlitt. Of course, you could read the big, heavy classics like** _ **City of God**_ **by Augustine or** _ **Institutes of the Christian Religion**_ **by Calvin, but those are much tougher reads, and while I do highly recommend them, I don't expect most people to be able to just pick them up and fly through them. They were hard for me, and I read the abridged versions! ;) But they are VERY good. Anyway, that's what I've got off the top of my head. I hope as the school year draws nearer, things fall in place for you! I'm going through a tough transition into college right now, so I totally feel your anxiety! Let me know if there's any way I can pray for you.**

 **Author's Note: Here is the last chapter before the Games. This one was also pretty hard (who knew that Thresh would be so tough to write?), and I'd really appreciate some feedback on it. Thanks so much for reading; I hope you enjoy this update!**

 **. . .**

Despite the fact that I've slept well throughout my stay in the Capitol, I have no hope of getting sleep tonight. I try for a while anyway, but eventually I give up and decided to roam around the apartment. Walking always made me feel more at peace when I couldn't sleep at home, and a bit of home certainly couldn't hurt me now.

I stroll around the empty, dark dining hall without a destination. The pacing does ease my anxiety a bit, but I realize that tired legs tomorrow are a bad idea, so after a little while, I sit on one of the exotic couches and just stare out the window, which reveals only buildings. No stars can be seen in such a bright city, something that I consider almost a crime.

I am almost startled when I hear footsteps, at first I wonder if it's Seeder or Chaff coming to reprimand me for being out of bed. But then I notice now heavy the footfalls are, and I deduce that it is Thresh. I take my glance from the window to face the hallway, and sure enough, that massive boy is walking in my direction.

I shoot him a friendly smile, but when he first sees me, he stops as if thinking of returning to his room. I briefly wonder if other tributes are having the same encounters around the building. For some reason, I don't want to be alone, so I attempt to keep him from leaving.

"I doubt even one of the tributes is sleeping right now," I say as light-hearted as I can. "I just figured there wasn't much use in trying after a while."

Thresh does not respond, but maybe he can tell what I want, because he advances out of the hallway and sits on a couch opposite me, still not saying anything. We both remain that way, in total silence, until finally I can't bear it.

"I bet you've got a better shot at winning than anyone else out there," I comment. "I wish you the best."

Thresh's response is so surprising that I nearly have a heart attack. He lets out a sigh of frustration and raises his voice louder than I've ever heard him speak before. "Dang it, why do you keep doing this to me?"

I am taken aback, but not so stunned by this, his only verbal response to me, that I can't respond. "Doing what?"

"All you've done since you raised your hand is act nice to everybody," he says, his eyes finally meeting my gaze with accusation. "But we're going into the Arena where we will have to kill each other; twenty-three kids will be dead, and you act like we are all the best of pals. I know that that a similar strategy has worked in the past, sort of like with Johanna from District Seven, but do you know how despicable it is?"

I can't believe that's what he thinks. I am pierced by a pang of fear that this is what _all_ the other tributes think I'm doing, but I know there's no point in worrying about that now. I can't deal with them at this point, but I can set Thresh straight. I look right back into his eyes, and answer with as much sincerity as I can muster.

"I do have an unusual strategy for the Games, Thresh. But this attitude isn't a show! This is just me. And the fact that twenty-three of us will be dead only fuels my desire to be kind to people. My compliment may be the last nice thing they ever hear, and maybe it'll give them something to cling to when the end does come." Tears sting my eyes, and I avert my gaze and blink them away. "We're not enemies, so why should I act like it? I just want people to see past these wretched Games and have some hope."

I know that technically my image as a kind person _is_ vital to my plan for the Arena, but at the same time, what I've told Thresh is true. I am relieved when his expression of anger and allegation fades, and it appears that he is considering what I've said. Finally he sighs turns his head so that I can't see his face anymore.

"It's hard to see past the Games when they're killing you," he says in a tone which is hard to decipher.

"I know," I admit, "but I will try nonetheless."

Then Thresh surprises me again. He laughs. His chuckle is deep and quiet, but I decide that I like it. It's soothing and kind, like my father's. He faces me again, his eyes merry this time, and I cannot help but laugh too, even though I don't know what's so funny.

"Poor Seeder," he finally states, shaking his head. "She must've had a hard time dealing with someone whose ideals don't bow even in the face of the Arena."

That compliment means far more than the boy sitting across from me could ever know. I smile modestly and let my eyes wander to the floor, still giggling a bit. "Yes, poor Seeder," I concur. "I am sure she has found my stubbornness a challenge. But my family managed to coexist with me for seventeen years, so I think she's survived without permanent mental scarring."

Thresh laughs again, and I join in again, heedless of the fact that we might wake someone. So what if they lose some sleep? They've got their whole lives ahead of them to make it up. Meanwhile Thresh and I probably have only a few weeks left to breathe, and it is likely that none of those days will have any kind of happiness in them. We must enjoy joy while we can.

It is about an hour later that I return to my room, a smile still on my face. As I snuggle up under my covers, I think that just maybe I'll mange a few winks before being roused to prepare for the Arena. I am more happy than I have yet been in the Capitol, and though the black cloud of the Games is still very present in my mind, a star shines out from behind the darkness, and I keep my eyes fixed on it.

When morning arrives, I realize that I did get about four hours of sleep, and that's probably more than most tributes were able to snag. My escort hands me over to my stylist who gives me some plain clothes to wear before hurrying me to the breakfast table. I cannot really eat much, but I manage to take a few bites of bread before I leave. Thresh looks sad this morning; he knows that we'll be pitted against each other in a matter of hours. Because of the somber mood of the day, neither of us says anything.

At last, it's time to leave for the Arena. I give Seeder a big hug, and I realize just how fond of her I have become. She smiles at me, but she cannot hide her fear and sorrow. She puts both her hands on my face as if she's a mother taking one last look at her daughter before sending her to school.

"Are you sure you won't change your mind about this strategy of yours?" she asks, genuinely curious. "I can always get you sponsors, and—"

"I'm sure," I interrupt. "I have to do it this way."

Seeder shakes her head. "I just don't see why, child."

I quickly take her hand and draw a little symbol in her palm using my pointer finger. I try to keep the sign hidden from any cameras or eyes, and I am pretty sure no one saw it. It is highly illegal, and the last thing I want is to get Seeder in trouble.

"That's why," I answer quietly. She looks at me, total confusion evident in her expression, but I can't talk about the meaning here. Instead I simply shrug and say, "You'll have to ask my dad."

For a moment, we both stand there in silence, but time is ticking away, and I must leave. "You are very brave," Seeder says at last, her voice filled with emotion. Then she pulls me into another embrace and whispers in my ear, "They can never take that from you". I give her a knowing nod and try to grin, thought tears spill down my cheeks.

"Thank you so much for everything," I say, almost chocking the words out. Then I turn to leave, wondering if I will ever see her again.

I am put in a hovercraft, injected with a tracker, and flown to the Arena. When we land, my stylist takes me to the Launch Room and gives me the standard issue clothes that I will wear in the Games. I then step into the cylinder that will transport me into the Arena and wait. After a minute, the glass door of the tube slides shut, the ground beneath me rises, and I am pushed upward.

Light dazzles my eyes as I emerge onto my pedestal. When my vision adjusts, I quickly take stock of my surroundings as the countdown continues. Woods. A field. A lake. The Cornucopia surrounded with goodies. Tributes positioned all around it. This is the Hunger Games, and I must do my best to beat it.

The gong sounds and the Games begin.

 **. . .**

 **Please be sure to review! Next chapter will start Amaranth's journey in the Games!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Response to SibunaMockingjay: Yeah, I know what you mean. I was excited to get to write Amaranth in the Games, too; just not in the Capitol-creepy way. Hope the room situation goes well! I'm also in the process of going through my entire life and boxing it up, so I feel ya. ;) I sure hope you enjoy the books when you get a chance to read them! And thanks so much for the prayers! :D**

 **Author's Note: And now the Games begin! Just as an aside to readers, I would like to inform you that I did all the research I could to make this accurate to the book. The Games in this story will follow the canon timeline exactly, and if you haven't read the books, you may be surprised by just how** _ **long**_ **the Hunger Games are. Weeks! So if you're ever wondering why so much time is passing, that's why. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!**

 **. . .**

I never planned to head towards the Cornucopia, but suddenly the idea of being completely without supplies makes me ditch outright flight and run to the nearest backpack. I can hear a commotion near the structure of the Cornucopia, then the clash of weapons and the sickening cries of the dying. I feel like whipping around and running into the thick of the battle, demanding for everyone to consider what they're doing, but I know that would be suicide, so when I reach the bag, I throw it onto my back and sprint away.

I do not escape the Bloodbath completely unhindered. When I am only ten yards from the tree line, I run into one of the Careers. It's the girl from District 4, running past only a few feet away, but right now she's not after me. Her sights are set on the boy from 10 whose crippled leg makes his running from her almost a joke. I decide that the joke is not funny, and I will make sure the punchline never comes to be.

The girl from 4, who seems to have only grabbed the nearest weapon before going after her prey, wields a long spear, and I don't even think she knows quite how to use it. Therefore, she will have to be very close to her target to make an accurate throw. I must capitalize on this advantage, so I run as fast as I can, and since she is going the same direction but slightly ahead, she doesn't see me. When she suddenly stops to set her feet for a throw, I pounce.

My jump combined with the forward momentum from the sprint produces a pretty hard hit on the Career's body, sending us both to the ground before she has thrown her spear. She's stunned only for a moment, and in that moment I roll away and grab the spear. Then, for a split second, I have the spear pointed right toward her at extremely close range. She's at my mercy. I am breathing hard and my adrenaline is up, and I feel the need to plunge the weapon into her murderous members, but my own mind enters me before I do this, and then I spin around and sprint for the woods, feeling no small amount of shame for my intentions, however brief.

I know as I pass beneath the shadows of the trees that she will not pursue me. She'll be with the Career Pack, and so she must return to the Cornucopia for weapons and the comfort of allies. But I stay at a run just to be safe. In my peripheral vision, I see the boy from 10 pushing through the trees on my right, going a different direction, and I smile. He's as safe as anyone now.

It is only after about two hours of jogging and walking that I dare to climb a tree and look at the contents of the bag I was able to grab. The pack itself is navy blue; that's good since it will blend fairly well with the forest. It contains a plastic bottle, which is empty, a warm blanket, some thin rope, and a jar of juicy nuts. Plus I have a spear, which is sharp enough to cut very well. It's not much, but it's a whole lot better than nothing.

My strategy requires little of me except survival for the initial part of the Games, and until I run into other tributes who are willing to become my allies, I must just act like any other person would. I know water should be my first priority, so I strike out going diagonal but uphill, hoping to hit a stream that feeds the lake by the Cornucopia. The Arena may not be natural, but this is all I have to go on.

The day passes very slowly. It gets pretty warm, even in the shade of the trees, and I am reminded of the harsh reality that every drop I sweat is one step closer to dehydration. But I know if I think about being thirsty, I will only become _more_ thirsty, so I try to get my mind on other things as much as I can.

Late in the afternoon, the cannons start to go off. I stop my trek and count how many times it fires. After eleven booms, the Arena is silent again. So eleven are dead; eleven children have already been murdered. I clench my jaws together and ball my hands into fists, angry that the injustice of the Capitol, which is somehow tolerated by the districts, has just cost more lives, and it will continue to do so for the next couple weeks. Channeling my wrath into my feet, I start walking again at a quicker pace, hoping to reach water before night falls.

I am unsuccessful. When the sun sets, I have not found any water, and the air is getting colder by the minute. I wonder if I should keep going or find a place to sleep, and while I sit down to consider my dilemma, the anthem plays and the faces of the fallen appear in the sky. I feel pain for each person as their image lights up the Arena, but there's nothing I can do to help them now. The only thing that makes me glad is that Thresh and the two from 12 are still alive. When it's over, I decide, whether wisely or not, to continue walking. I am dead tired, but to tell the truth, I am more afraid of dying from thirst than of being attacked in my exhausted state.

I go on and on, becoming more cold and stiff all the time. When I finally decide that I must stop for some sleep, I notice a sound that wasn't there before. At first, I doubt my ears, but finally I know it can be nothing except a stream. I head forward eagerly and find a small river running in just the direction I had guessed it would. I have nothing to treat the water, but I am used to drinking from natural sources, so I plunge my head into the cool water and drink as deeply as I dare.

When I've had my fill, I am most definitely freezing, so find a tall tree near the river bank and begin making a sort of nest like I used to at home. I spent so much time in the trees during the harvest that I perfected the art as much as humanly possible, and even in the Arena, my hands go about the task automatically. I tear off small tree branches and weave them quickly together, stuffing the mass between two large branches near the tree's trunk. I curl up tightly in my little nest and tuck the blanket around me, feeling pretty well. My only discomfort is my hunger, but I don't dare to take anything from my precious food supply yet.

I sleep restlessly on and off throughout the night until, sometime in the very early morning, my rest is disrupted by a faraway scream. I instinctively sit straight up even though I know that the source must be quite distant and I'm in no immediate danger. Despite my own safety, the cry of pain and terror makes my blood run cold. I squint into the pre-dawn darkness and think that maybe I can spot the flicker of a fire, but I'm not sure. If someone did make a fire, they were inviting death, not warmth with their bright flames. A cannon goes off as I get comfortable again, and I can't help but wish I had been there to smack some sense into the now slain tribute.

When the sun comes up, I decide to continue moving away from the Cornucopia but follow the river, my vital source of life. I cross the chilly water at its most shallow ford and strike out at a decent walking pace, remaining hidden from view in the tree line. I stay at this speed all morning and keep my eyes open for edible plants, occasionally finding something small to nibble on. It never satisfies my hunger, but it's better than nothing.

In the afternoon, I stay on course, but I am forced to slow down a bit. I am very hungry, and I finally open the container of nuts and pop a few in my mouth. They have a sweet taste, and I wish I could scarf down the whole box, but I am more disciplined than that. After having a small handful, I close it up and keep walking, hoping that the protein from my snack will increase my energy a little.

The day goes by without incident. I find more plants, which I either eat or gather and place into the nut container. I always keep my water bottle full, and since the river is fairly cold, I replace my supply every few hours to keep it fresh. The sun makes its way slowly into the west, and finally it sets. I haven't seen one tribute today, and I doubt there's been a lot of action anywhere else. The audience will be bored, and that doesn't bode well for the coming days.

When I have made another quick nest, I curl up to sleep as I did the night before. The anthem plays, and one face appears. This must be the girl killed early this morning. I wonder what her name was and how slowly she died. I desperately hope she didn't suffer for long.

The night and the following day are very much like the first except no cannons. I drink water, eat herbs and roots, and walk. I consider changing course as the afternoon grows old, for I had hoped to meet tributes who were alone along the river, but that has yet to happen. How can I have an ally if there are no people in the area? At dusk, I decide not to progress any further away. I will set up a more permanent camp here tomorrow and wait for someone to wander to the water.

I only sleep a few hours before my senses force me to awaken. I look around and notice nothing out of place at first, but since something feels so wrong, I climb up my tree to see over the forest. Just when I have gone above the tree tops and can look out with unhindered vision, I hear the sound. It's a strange sound, the like of which I have never heard before. I would never have guessed what it was except that I can now see its source with my eyes. A massive wall of fire descends across the Arena, miles long, and it's headed in my direction.

 **. . .**

 **What'd you think of Amaranth's first days in the Games? More interaction is coming soon, I promise! Please be sure to leave me some feedback; thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Response to SibunaMockingjay: Thanks for all the review support! And I hope your big changes, be they about art class drawings or moving between rooms, go well too. :)**

 **Author's Note: And here's chapter seven! I'd love to hear back on what you guys thought of my writing for the tributes' interaction here. The dialogue between canon characters and Amaranth can be tough at times, and feedback is always appreciated. Thanks again for reading!**

 **. . .**

Based on both the angle of the fire wall and the fact this is undoubtedly something stirred up by the Gamemakers to bring the tributes together, I know I have to run in more or less the direction I've come. I hurriedly gather my supplies and take long drinks of water from the river, checking over my shoulder to see how far the wall is. I think I will be alright with this good head start, but I don't go slowly as I cross the stream and head into the forest at a quick jogging pace.

Because of my advanced warning, I never encounter the flames, but I am kept on the move for several hours, always on high alert. There must be some tribute in the area, and even if I don't run into the Careers, anyone I meet will be likely to attack me. I have a spear, which I don't really know how to use and certainly don't want to use, but otherwise I am totally exposed.

After the wall of fire has chased me into the woods far from the river, it finally stops. I immediately take to the trees and remain in them as much as possible as I slowly explore this new section of woods. I am drawn to the place where the fire once burned, though I have no reason to go there. When the afternoon comes, I hear evidence of company, and I freeze as I realize it's the Career Pack.

Their footsteps are loud and careless, as is their talk, almost as if they want to warn tributes to their coming. I quickly get higher in the tree, and soon I see them pass beneath me. To my shock, I notice that Peeta from 12 is with them. I don't really have time to think about that now though, because one of the Careers in the front yells out something to the others.

"I think that's her over there!"

I follow their gaze, and sure enough, a girl is twenty yards away beside a pool of water. The girl hears the Careers and immediately grabs her supplies and scrambles up a tree, though I can tell by her awkward climbing that she's been injured, probably in the leg. I remain still until the Careers have gone past me and to the base of the girl's tree, and then I begin carefully edging closer, always keeping out of sight.

The Careers try unsuccessfully to get the girl out of the tree, and they exchanges a few humorous barbs.

"How's the weather down there?" the girl asks. I can't help but grin because the treed tribute is Katniss.

"Why don't you come and find out?" roars Cato in response.

I tune out the Career's conversation as I come closer and have to focus on being silent and stealthy. When I get to a good position, the Careers begin building a fire, and I deduce that they are just going to wait out Katniss' either desperate escape or starvation. That certainly will make things difficult.

From my new vantage, which is very high in a tree opposite that which houses Katniss, I see the whole layout of the landscape in the sun's fading light. I think that it may actually be possible to get into the tree that Katniss is stuck in if I get high enough. But do I dare to risk something like that when I'm not even sure she won't kill me?

I decide to try it after the anthem. There's no point in being here if I don't give her some sort of help, and since I've rejected the notion of killing the tributes, I will have to aid Katniss in thinking a way out of the tree. But I decide to leave my spear a few other items safely nestled in this tree since extra weight cannot be a good idea. All I leave in the bag is the water bottle, which is currently full.

After the anthem has finished its dreadful music, I begin creeping up the tree trunk toward the branches that reach out and touch those of Katniss' tree. The Careers keep poor watch, so they do not notice me as I ease across the dangerously precarious bridge and then sigh with relief when I set my feet on a thick support again.

Just before I start descending to Katniss' branch, I hear low ringing. Before my memory can place it, I see a parachute sail beside me and land in a wedge a few stories down. Katniss notices and looks up, and she gasps when she sees me perched above her. She draws out a knife immediately, but I put my hands up in a show of peace.

"Shh," I hiss in a whisper. "I'm here to help you."

Her expression is very skeptical, but she doesn't attempt to throw the blade, so I take that as a good sign. I slowly climb down the tree and grab a hold of the parachute, which again prompts a threatening stance from Katniss. I roll my eyes and keep going down, finally coming to a halt only about five feet from Katniss' perch.

"I think this is for you," I say, lowering the parachute carefully.

Katniss still seems suspicious, but she takes the gift from some rich sponsor and opens it. She is glad to find that it is medicine for her leg wound, and she is just about to apply it when she remembers that I'm right over her head.

"What do you want?" she asks quietly but harshly. "You just like being hunted by the Careers?"

"Sure, I love it," I retort with a grin. "But hobbies can wait. We've got to find a way out of here. I don't think the Careers are going to miss you crossing up there with that leg, if you don't mind my saying so. Therefore, we need another solution."

Katniss doesn't seem too intrigued, so I sigh and plop into a more comfortable position. "Want some water?" I ask, opening my bag and handing it down to her. She refuses to take it, prompting me to sigh again, drink a sip of it myself, and hand it back to her. "Not poisoned; I promise."

Katniss reluctantly accepted the bottled and takes a few swallows. I then realize that she has probably breathed in a great amount of smoke today, and her throat must be burning with pain. I figure I can cross the branches again soon, so I decide to let her finish the water.

"Drink it all," I insist. "I'll get more from your pool in a minute."

She seems grateful, her eyes at last dropping their hesitation, and she lifts the bottle and eagerly gulps down the water. She hands the empty container back to me, and I place it in my bag and crawl a little further down.

"You ought to put on that medicine," I say when I realize she still hasn't tended to her wound yet.

Katniss doesn't argue, and when she positions her leg so that she can apply the squishy substance to the burn, I feel bile creep into my throat. The burn is terrible to look at, and I have no experience healing or even seeing the hurt at all. I decide to look somewhere else while she finishes putting on the medicine.

Once she's done, having screwed the small cylinder closed and placed it her pack, she turns her full attention to me. She seems to be calculating both how much of a threat I pose and how much trust she should place in me. After several minutes, she averts her gaze and sighs.

"Do you have any suggestions about us getting out of here?" she asks, her voice still in a whisper.

I am overjoyed that she is willing to accept my help, but the problem is that I don't know how both of us will escape. Obviously I can climb out of the tree, but I doubt Katniss has the skills, and even if she did, we would have to stay in the tree tops for a long distance away from the Careers, and traveling in the branches like that would take hours. The Careers might not be geniuses, but they would find out where we went. I briefly consider leaving by myself to make a diversion simple human, but I know that there is no way Cato will leave this tree for any other tribute while Katniss is still trapped, and one Career guarding her is too many.

"I'm fresh out of ideas," I say. "I should have grabbed some of those at the Cornucopia."

Katniss smiles a bit, but I know that her mind is still occupied with her predicament. _Our_ predicament. We both brainstorm for a several minutes, but neither of us comes up with anything. It's cold now, and my thoughts are having a hard time staying on the problem and away from my warm blanket in the other tree.

"Do you have anything to wrap up with at night?" I ask Katniss, suddenly wondering about her. She's injured and exhausted; she needs good sleep, and my blanket might be of great help to her.

"Yes," she replies, "I have a sleeping bag."

"Good," I remark, rising from my sitting position. "Maybe you should get some sleep. If you don't mind, I'll head over to my tree. I've got a blanket that's calling my name."

Katniss nods. "Supplies are important," she affirms casually.

I suddenly stop moving and turn to face her. "What did you say?"

"I said supplies are important. Why?" Then the realization dawns on her, too. "But how could we—"

"I'll leave right now," I explain, suddenly with a plan formulated and adrenaline returning to my cold veins. "I'll light a big fire right on the edge of the field with the Cornucopia, and the Careers will think we've set their stuff on fire."

"But what if they know it's a trick, or they only send some people to check it out?"

"Well, the supplies are extremely important to them since they can't forage, so I don't think they could risk it. And I don't have any other ideas. If I fail, no harm done, right? I'll be far away from the fire by the time anyone gets there."

Katniss considers the scenario for a little bit longer before consenting. "I guess it's the only plan we've got."

"I'll be looking for you on my way back," I say as I begin to climb higher. "Keep your eyes on the trees. But Katniss, if for some reason another opportunity emerges, go ahead and get out of here; you don't have to wait. Anything could happen to me between here and the Cornucopia."

Katniss gives me an understanding expression and I continue up the tree. I stop when I hear a dull but still present buzzing sound. It must be insects, and I look around for its source. I gasp and cover my mouth when I see the tracker jacker nest only a few feet away from me. Thankfully the smoke from today's fire sedated the little creatures, but they are definitely a threat. I wave my hand down to grab Katniss' attention and point to the nest.

"Watch out for these," I whisper.

She acknowledges me with a thumbs-up, though her eyes are again calculating, and I wonder what she's thinking. Since she says nothing, I start climbing towards the branch bridge and eventually cross to my own tree. There I gather up my belongings and begin the cautious journey towards the Cornucopia, first in the treetops and later on the ground, always being quiet and cautious. I finally have a purpose to fulfill.

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 **I hope you liked it! Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I am so sorry for the delay in posting! I meant to put up another chapter with a warning of my absence before I left, but then I got too busy to do that. :P Anyway, I have been on vacation and am now working on getting settled into my new apartment in Florida for college! Despite all the transition, turmoil, and rigorous study that is about to commence, I will try really hard to keep the chapters coming at a consistent speed. Thank you all for your patience. Please remember to leave me some feedback; it'll help motivate me to keep on working! ;)**

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My main concern as I trek through the woods is that I have not angled in the correct direction, but I am very pleased to find my fear is unnecessary. Just when the sun's first light is showing in the east, I can see the clearing and the large structure of the Cornucopia. I stay just inside the tree line to look for any guards that might have been left by the Careers, and sure enough I see the boy from 3 sitting beside a huge pile of supplies, carefully patting down some mounds of dirt.

I am dismayed that I can't actually light the supplies themselves on fire, but I don't waste time trying to think of a way to do it with a new plan. Katniss is relying on me to get her out as soon as possible, so I have to stick with our strategy. As I walk a few yards into the brush, I do wonder what in the world that boy is doing around the pile.

I go about twenty yards into the woods so that I am far enough away from the Cornucopia to work without alerting the guard and close enough that the Careers could think this is a fire near or on their supplies. I gather up large branches and begin creating quite a large mound of fuel. When the tiresome work is over, I begin to find the more leafy, green branches to set on top since they will make the most smoke. Just as I sit down to begin producing the fire itself, I hear a cannon and stand up.

Was that to signal Katniss' death? Did the Careers find a way to get up in the tree and kill her? The unknown is perhaps more deadly than the solid facts, and I am suddenly torn between starting this fire and returning to see if Katniss is alright. After a brief moment of inner turmoil, I feel my feet carrying me back to Katniss and the Careers. Then I'm not walking, I running, trying hard to reach the scene.

A rustling in the trees ahead of me is the only thing that brings me to a halt. It sounds loud, like more than one set of feet, and I quickly scale a tree and try to see who is coming my way. After a moment, I see five figures sprinting in the direction of the Cornucopia. No, they're angled slightly away, probably making for the lake. Then I hear the buzzing and put two and two together. The tracker jackers.

I don't even wait for the Careers to get out of sight before rushing down the tree and towards Katniss. The tracker jackers have followed the Careers, and I must hope that there aren't any left near the nest. It seems to take longer than it should, but finally I'm back at the tree. Katniss is not here.

I think the grotesque and swollen body on the ground belongs to the girl from District 1, Glimmer, but I notice that her fingers are broken. Didn't she have a bow? A hovercraft is nearby, probably wanting to pick up her body, so I clear out and try to find any signs of where Katniss would go, especially since she is now armed.

I am no hunter, and I don't know how to find someone's tracks and look for them, so instead I just take to the trees and look around for any sign of movement. I am relieved to see Katniss only a few minutes after beginning my search, but she doesn't seem to be entirely lucid. Maybe she's been stung, too. A cannon goes off, and I guess that another Career has died of their stings somewhere. This was a lethally smart idea.

I make my way to Katniss and drop down near her. She almost shoots at me, though I hardly think she could have made the shot in her condition, but she holds back when she sees it's me. It seems like she's trying to decide whether or not to trust me, but the poison must be impairing her thoughts, because she just keeps looking confused.

Suddenly I can hear the Careers returning, and I step towards Katniss as slowly as I dare. I hope she's coherent enough not to consider this advance a threat, but I don't really have the time to worry anymore.

"Katniss," I say as strongly and clearly as I can. "Katniss, we have to leave right now!"

Her brow creases as she tries to get a hold on reality, but by the time she lowers her bow, it's too late. The Careers are upon us, and in one last and desperate act, I hold forth my spear and prepare for the end. But then something happens to make me almost as confused as Katniss.

"Katniss, go!" Peeta yells from the front of the Pack. "Get out of here, go!"

He then begins to fight Cato, who has just realized Peeta's betrayal. I want to stay and help Peeta, but he would want me to protect Katniss, so as she begins to follow his advice and run, I run with her.

Her strides are not consistent, and several times she nearly falls down. Finally, she can't go on anymore on her own, and I grab one of her arms and throw it over my shoulder, bearing some of her weight and pulling her along with me. In this awkward manner we continue to move as fast as we can through the forest.

I am always expecting to suddenly feel a knife or sword in my back, but it never comes. Fear is the only thing keeping both of us on our feet, and that dissipates increasingly as we put distance between us and the Careers, who are undoubtedly being affected by their stings, too. At last, Katniss collapses, and I, being unable to carry her, plop down on the ground. I see a large boulder a few feet away, and I drag Katniss, who is now unconscious, next to it. Although the protection it offers is minimal, it's better than being in the open.

After a long rest, in which I nearly fall asleep many times, I decide to give my ally a more thorough inspection. Because I have seen them before, the tracker jacker stings do not cause me to be sick, but they are still pretty bad. Luckily Katniss must have had the sense to pull out the stingers. I find three stings, each about the size of a plumb, and I know that I should do something to treat them.

It takes a few minutes of racking my brain for me to remember what the herb looks like that we, the orchard workers, had to search for when someone disturbed a tracker jacker nest last year. When I call the image to my mind, I seem to remember having seen a bit of it in the Arena, so after covering Katniss with some branches and leaves, I set out to find the herb.

It takes almost half an hour for me to collect a decent supply of the plant, and when I have enough, I return to Katniss. She has not even slightly stirred, and I know she will be out for a while. I chew up the leaves into mush and pack a layer of it on each sting. Then, after a bit of thought, I dig through Katniss' bag and apply the ointment to her leg burn and, after noticing the minor burns on her hands, her palms, too.

It's already past noon, and I am very tired, very hungry, and very thirsty. But I know that I still have more to do, so I hurry about my work. First I make a much more camouflaged shelter for Katniss, who will have to stay in the ground until she wakes. This takes a while and is a pretty delicate job, but finally I finish. Then I strike out in the general direction of my river and am glad to find a runoff stream where I drink a lot and fill up my bottle. Then, gathering edible berries and roots along the way, I head back to my ally.

When I have arrived at the boulder, I figure that I should hang out in a tree since it will give me the best vantage. I sigh as I force my exhausted arms to weave another nest. I don't bother making it very well; just enough to keep me safe in the tree. I know that sleep is dangerous right now, but I can't stay up much longer anyway, and the Careers are probably still suffering terribly at this moment from their stings. Thus I am not too worried as I climb the tree nearest the boulder and find a good wedge of branches in which to set my nest.

Before allowing my eyes to close, I eat some nuts and berries. They do little to satisfy my hunger, but I'm grateful for them nonetheless. Then I snuggle up under my blanket, which I have wrapped around me despite the warmth of the day, and fall asleep almost instantly.

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 **Thanks so much for reading! Be sure to review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Here's the next installment! My first classes will begin tomorrow (*chuckles nervously*), but like I said before, it will be my endeavor to keep posting even as my work load starts to pile up. I would really appreciate some reviews to keep me motivated and to let me know how you guys are liking the progression of the story. We are now half way through! Thanks so much for reading!**

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I awake at dusk still very hungry, but feeling more rested. The air is becoming chilly, and I wonder about Katniss. It would probably be best for me to get her in her sleeping bag, despite the fact that such an endeavor might be difficult. But then again, it's not like I have anything else to attend to.

I drag Katniss out of the little shelter and get her sleeping bag from her pack. It seems to reflect body heat, and I bet it's really warm. Before getting her into it, I chew up more healing leaves and apply them to the stings and put more medicine on her burns. When she has been treated, I slowly wriggle her limp form into the soft material and settle her back into the camouflaged refuge.

I may have slept all afternoon, but I can definitely sleep more, so I plan to go back to my nest soon. But first I explore a bit around our boulder to make sure there are no traces of either our presence or that of anyone else. When I am sure that we are safe, I climb into my bed and eat some more berries. The supply needs some replenishing, as does the water bottle, but that can wait until I have some light by which to search.

I sleep late into the morning, and when I awake, I feel greatly refreshed. My rest deficit created in the Arena may have just been knocked out. I spend the entire afternoon gathering edible plants and berries. I am building up a stock of food that will be enough to help Katniss recover from being unconscious for so long, and to be honest, I see no reason to sit idle and hungry while surrounded by food.

By nightfall, I am tired again, but more full than I have yet been. I have also taken in a lot of water today, and I hope that my physical condition has improved from what it was just a day ago. I was beginning to feel very rundown and sluggish, so perhaps now I am fully functional.

As I doze off in my nest, I take note of the fact that I have heard no cannons since the tracker jacker incident. Surely this peace cannot last long, and something is bound to happen if the tributes don't begin fight amongst themselves—ourselves—again soon.

Again I sleep all through the night, stirring only after the sun is already up. I go about the now boring system that I have been about so long: change Katniss' medicine, which seems to have improved her condition greatly, gather food and water, consume food and water, and sit in the tree when at last I am tired of doing everything else. But fortunately, at about noon, Katniss begins to stir.

At first, I only hear her moaning, and I think she's experiencing nightmares. That would make sense; she's probably been enduring those this entire time and only now is alive enough to move. Hallucinations and the like are typical of tracker jacker stings. I leave my nest and come down to where Katniss lies and pull her out of the shelter, settling on the ground near her. I ease her head in my lap and begin stroking her hair and rubbing her hand slowly in a soothing manner. This was what my sister always did for me when I was little and awoke from a rough dream, and it's all I can think to do.

After about ten minutes, Katniss' eyes open and she becomes aware of herself. She blinks several times and then locks her eyes with mine, and I wonder what she could be thinking. Knowing she will want some space, I scoot back a few feet and let her sit up. She stares at her surroundings for a few seconds, taking in the shelter and her own wounds, and then finally faces me.

"How long was I out?"

"The entire day that dawned with the tracker jackers, all of yesterday, and half of today."

"How many are dead?"

"Glimmer and the girl from District Four," I reply, recalling my notes of them when their faces appeared in the sky two nights ago. "Besides us, there's still the boy from One, Cato, Clove, the boy from Three, the girl from Five, the boy from Ten, Thresh, and Peeta."

Katniss visibly blanches at the mention of her fellow tribute. Her brow creases in frustrated confusion, and she shakes her head to try to make sense. "Is he still with the Careers?"

I grin a bit. "I doubt it, especially since he saved us right after the tracker jacker incident. He told us to run and then fought with Cato. I wanted to go back, but I figured that he'd want me to stay with you. I have been curious about him, though. No cannon or photo during the anthem for either him or Cato. Who knows what happened?"

Katniss seems to remember some of what I relate, and she nods slowly. "I'm sorry I didn't follow the plan," she says after a moment.

"That's okay," I assure. "I told you to do what you felt was necessary."

"Did you light the fire?"

"No; I made the pile of wood, but never lit it. I did get a glimpse of their supplies, though, and I was pretty stumped. They've got it all in a big stack, but the boy from 3, which I assumed was a guard, was working in the dirt around it. Do you have any idea what they could be doing?"

"District Three specializes in technology," she muses, shrugging her shoulders. "That doesn't have much to do with dirt."

"I am sure that whatever it is, they're keeping it a secret." I pause, but then a thought hits me and I slam my palm into my face, laughing slightly. "Here I am chatting and you're probably starving! Do you feel well enough to eat?"

Katniss smiles at the mention of eating. "I've never felt better."

As I am getting out the stash of berries and herbs, I am struck by how much more friendly Katniss has become towards me. Perhaps it's the joy of companionship, or maybe she just feels like she owes me since I have basically babysat her unconscious and vulnerable body for two days. Either way, I'm just glad to have an amiable ally. This is working out well for my strategy.

Katniss and I eat much of the food I have gathered, and I put forth a few nuts, too. She goes through her bag and shows me some crackers and dried meat, but I suggest we save it, just in case. When the meal is finished, Katniss asks the question that has probably been nagging on her mind for a while.

"So what are we? An alliance?"

I shrug. "Only if you want it to be that way."

Katniss raises her eye brow. "That was a pretty neutral answer for someone who's played guard dog over me for two days. You would really leave if I asked you to?"

"Yeah. I guess wouldn't _want_ to, but there's no point in me hanging around to annoy someone if we're in an Arena where we have to fight to the death." Katniss considers what I've said, but I decide to keep talking. "It would at least be beneficial if we were to put our discovery to practice as a team."

"You mean the Careers' supplies?"

"Yes. If we could somehow damage or destroy the pile, then at the very least the Careers would be forced to trade killing tributes for hunting, cooking, and gathering during a good part of the day."

Katniss thinks about my proposal for a few minutes, and finally she consents. "Deal. But Amaranth...what happens after the supplies are gone?"

I know what she's talking about. There can only be one victor, and I am fairly sure that Katniss doesn't want to be stuck killing me. This is the aspect I have always hated about the Games most, both watching it at home and coming to them myself: distrust. The rules of the Games make it almost impossible to truly trust anyone or to develop any friendships. I wish desperately that I could triumph over this unspoken law.

"We'll see when the time comes. There might be another two-person job that we'll find when we see the food or something, and it would be unwise to call something off if it can still be useful, right?"

Katniss nods, and since it appears that the conversation is over, she gives a sidelong glance towards her bow and arrows. At first I think this could be a threat, but then I know it's not. Can she hunt with that weapon, I wonder?

"Why don't I get us some game for dinner?" Katniss suggests. "Maybe I can contribute to this alliance for once."

I smile and nod. "I'll get some more plants and berries while you're gone."

And so we split up. I gather more edible plants for about an hour or so and then return to our camp. Katniss is already back with a couple strange looking birds. She looks up at me from her work of preparing them for cooking and actually grins a bit.

"What are those?" I ask, not recognizing the birds.

"Groosling," she says. "They've got good meat on them; it should make for a great supper."

And she's right. We travel away from our boulder and light a fire to roast the birds. We move off from the source of the smoke when the dinner is finished cooking, and when we arrive back at our camp, we eat some of the meat. Nothing has ever tasted so good to me in my whole life. I have eaten herbs and berries so long that I have almost forgotten the juicy tenderness of good meat. I try to slow down, but it seems far too soon that the portion I took is gone.

"Have a leg," offs Katniss, gesturing to the remains of the bird.

I stare at it with longing, but I cannot imagine eating so much. Finally I give in, though I am still shocked by how much food I am eating. I have never consumed this much meat at home; we were always lucky to get any at all.

"I guess you in District Eleven are more used to agricultural types of food," comments Katniss when she notices my enjoyment of the groosling. I immediately shake my head.

"We aren't allowed to eat what we grow," I reply. "The Capitol organizes what is available, and most families need the tesserae on top of that." Katniss looks pretty surprised, and I wonder briefly if the other districts think that 11 has a ton of food. "Do you get coal from what you mine in Twelve?"

"No, I guess I see your point. We don't get any free coal unless you count the mounds of black dust everywhere."

I grin and wipe away the grease from my mouth. Then I realize it's getting late, and we need to discuss our plans for destroying the Careers' supplies. Standing up and looking towards the stream, I show Katniss my dirty hands.

"Let's wash up at the creek. Then we ought to start making our strategy."

"Sounds like a good idea," Katniss agrees. "Let's go."

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 **Please be sure to leave me some feedback!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: And here's chapter 10! I would really appreciate some feedback from you guys; it would make my crazy-busy day if you would give me some reviews! Enjoy!**

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Katniss and I both agree after almost an hour of discussion that we are prepared to take on the Careers' supplies the following morning and we should get some sleep in the meantime. She shows me how she normally sleeps in her sleeping bad with a rope securing her to a large tree branch. She positions herself only one branch above my nest, and we both let sleep overtake us after the anthem plays. I again take note of the lack of death. Tomorrow will be different, I am afraid.

We awake just before dawn to the sound of a cannon. I was right, unfortunately. We both wonder who has died, but there's no use pondering it as we will not know until tonight when their face is projected in the sky. After we've shoved those thoughts from our minds simultaneously, we go about breakfast.

I accidently find a nest with eggs while I am in the tree, and we eat these raw. The texture is not very agreeable, but my hunger keeps the protein going down my throat, and I do feel better after we've had it. We each also have a bit of groosling before packing up our supplies.

"Should we head towards the Cornucopia?" Katniss asks.

"Seems like it's time," I agree.

As we walk, we talk a bit about our districts. She tells me about coal mining, and I describe work in the orchards. Her mockingjay pin prompts me to point out the said birds, which are in a few trees around us. We decide to use one of District 11's whistle signals, which traditionally meant that the work day was over, if we were apart but alright.

Finally, it's time to go our separate ways. I doubt Katniss would stand for a hug at this point, at least not from me, so I merely give her a firm handshake, which she returns. I hope desperately that this is not the last time we meet; that would not help my strategy at all. I look at her face and pray that she won't get hurt.

"Good luck," she says.

"You too," I reply, smiling a bit. She nods and then starts off into the woods, vanishing in a few moments.

Now I must go about my half of our plan. I build up three separate fires, hurrying at my work, but not too worried about it. Katniss will need some time to reach the Cornucopia and scope it out anyway. When the piles are ready, I use one of the matches Katniss gave me to light the first fire. Once I am sure that the fire is taking to the wood, I move on.

The same process is repeated with the second stack, though I wait a bit to give Katniss more time. After I have lit the second fire, I begin heading to the last pile. But before I reach the third stack of wood, I feel that something is wrong. I can sense foreboding almost as if I can see it with my eyes, and I decide to keep out my spear, which is normally fastened to my pack. I clench the weapon tightly in my hands, fear crawling over my skin like an insect. It is only my knowledge that the Careers are probably checking out my fires that keeps me moving forward.

I do not even see the net coming until it has totally enclosed me. I remain absolutely still as the trap gulps me into its eager jaws, for surely thrashing about will only make things worse. My heart has accelerated and so has my breathing. A trap has to have someone to set it, and that means that they will be around to check it. How long has it been here? When will they be back?

While I am trying to find a way out of the net, a deafening series of explosions rip through the air. It's so loud that my ears ring for several seconds, and I think the ground actually shook underneath me. I expected Katniss to complete the task, but she has gone above and beyond. I hope she was not injured.

When the explosions are over, I try to remain calm and find the tip of my spear. It should be plenty sharp for cutting through the net, but the ropes of the net are thick, and I will have to work fast. Even the sound of a cannon barely fazes me. The afternoon goes by as I saw at the cords, praying that I can get out. The net seems to suffocate me, taunting me with its power. I clench my teeth and keep working, trying not to imagine what it is like to die in such a fashion.

Finally I have a hold big enough or my head, and still no one has shown up to check the trap. Hope rises in me just as the sun sets, and I keep sawing until the anthem plays. I see the faces of the boy from 10 and the boy from 3 flash across the sky, and I again feel a pang in my heart for them and their families. But once the music is over, I start trying to get out again.

At last, I think I can squeeze through the hole in the net. I push the spear through first and my pack next since both of those would hinder me. Then I pull and push and yank and rip my way out of the hole. It takes much longer than I'd like, and my skin incurs several red marks and bruises, but in the end I manage to escape. Looking back at the net, I know I would never have escaped without a spear, and I hold my weapon with new respect for its usefulness.

Now I must head to the meeting place that Katniss and I selected. Since I now know that someone has set traps, I make the journey through the treetops, despite the fact that this adds quite a bit of time and effort to the trek. When I arrive at the rendezvous spot, a small clearing with tall trees around it, I find a branch and tie myself to it like Katniss does, being too tired to make a nest.

In the morning, I eat some of my food and wait for Katniss. I begin worrying about her, but then I hear the mockingjay tune and I know she is alright. I send a reply of notes, and before I know it, I can hear her coming. I climb down the tree and jog to meet her, but when I reach her, I realize that she's pretty beat up. She has blood on her face, especially around one of her ears, and her eyes look very tired.

"Are you alright?" I ask with concern.

"I'll be fine," she replies with a bit of annoyance. "My ear is gone, though."

My countenance falls a bit, but I don't want to make her feel worse about it, so I don't throw her a pity party. "That's okay; I'll share one of mine, if you need it."

Katniss grins a little, but I don't when I hear the rustling. Someone has been following her, I think, and without her sensitive hearing, she hasn't noticed. She sees my worry and cocks her head a bit.

"What is it?"

Then everything happens far too fast. Marvel from District 1 suddenly materializes behind Katniss, spear in hand and poised to throw. While his arm goes backward to gain momentum, I move forwards, shoving Katniss to the ground. The spear flies and a sharp pain slices through my left upper arm. I roll over to face Marvel again, but Katniss has been just as quick, and she's on one knee with her bow loaded. Before I can protest, she fires and hits Marvel with a fatal shot to the heart. The boy grimaces in pain and falls onto his back.

I don't even know what I'm doing until I have slid down by Marvel's side. His eyes glaze over as shock from pain and death both vie for power. I take his closest hand and grip it tightly, putting my other hand on his shoulder. His eyes slowly turn to me with a look of confusion, but I think there was a bit of gratitude in them, too. He wasn't left to die alone.

The cannon sounds before I've said anything or even thought about what to say. Tears spring into my eyes and roll down my cheeks as I look at the young, handsome face that will never again light up with joy or smile again. His family is undoubtedly thinking the same thing, and I can't help but do something for them.

I close Marvel's eyes and take his limp arms and set them on his chest. I straighten out his legs so that he looks as if he's lying out straight like a soldier, and I pull out the arrow from his chest. I then stand, retrieve the spear from the other side of the clearing, wipe off the blood—my blood—on a tuft of grass, and put it in his hands. He was a warrior, and now he will have a bit of honor in his short rest before a hovercraft arrives. He may not deserve any respect, or maybe his action were just those of a pawn in the Gamemakers' game. But I don't care, because nice things don't have to have be earned, at least not from me.

Katniss looks at me with an expression that communicates a lack of comprehension and even a little annoyance, but she says nothing. She must think my actions are ridiculous, especially since Marvel was a Career who tried to kill us, but since she didn't try to stop me, I guess she just accepts what I did. But now her eyes go from facing me to looking at my arm.

"You'll need a bandage," she says. "That's a big gash, and it's bleeding pretty badly."

I had barely noticed, but now that I do, the pain seems to hit me like a hammer, and I clutch at the injury to stem the flow of blood. I don't have anything to wrap this up with, but Katniss graciously volunteers to cut some of the lining out of her jacket for me. I shake my head at first, but she's pretty insistent.

"If you expect to take care of me for two whole days and refuse help from me for thirty seconds, you've got another thing coming," she says firmly. That shuts me up.

Katniss wraps up my wound, which really should have stitches, but of course we don't have that luxury available. Once that is done, we head away from the clearing quickly to avoid any other Careers who might come looking for Marvel. We make for the stream so that both of us can clean up a bit; her, the blood on her face and in her ear and me, the wound on my arm.

It takes a while to complete the trek, and we don't speak as we walk. I know that Katniss is undoubtedly trying to figure out how to word her desire to break off the alliance now that the supplies have been blown up. I, on the other hand, am searching for arguments that would keep us together. I am not feeling very confident in my reasoning when we reach the creek, but I've got to try.

My strategy depends on this.

 **. . .**

 **Poor Marvel. I always felt bad for him, especially after reading Nadine Brandes' amazing story** _ **Prim, the Tribute**_ **, which I highly recommend to everyone. Anyway, thanks so much for reading! Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me a little while to get this chapter up! Fanfiction has been acting quite strange the past few days, at least for me. So anyway, here you go. Please be sure to review! I would REALLY appreciate the feedback!**

 **. . .**

"Amaranth," Katniss begins hesitantly as we splash the cool water on ourselves to wash away the blood, "our alliance has accomplished its purpose." She pauses, taking in a big breath and letting it out in a sigh. "I don't want it to come down to the two of us," she says at last.

"I know," I answer, "but I wish that we didn't have to do it this way."

My response is lame, and for a moment I consider telling Katniss what my true strategy is, but I doubt she'd agree to be a part of it. Yet if I try to use traditional Hunger Games logic, I doubt I'm going to convince her of anything.

"How do you wish we would do it?" Katniss asks, a bit of sarcasm in her voice, but not enough for the comment to be biting.

I fall back to my only defense left: stalling. "Let's combine resources again for another big meal. Tomorrow morning, if we don't think of a reason to stay together, we'll go our separate ways."

Katniss considers the proposal and at last nods her assent. I smile in return, but my mind is still racing to find an excuse to keep the alliance. But just in case I don't find a way to stay with Katniss, I prepare to separate.

While Katniss hunts, I gather as many herbal leaves as I can find in addition to the edible ones. I hope to give Katniss a generous supply so that she can continue to treat her stings without having to forage for the medicine. I know she won't require nearly as many as I'm picking, but I do it anyway. Who knows what else she will encounter?

When I return to our camp, Katniss has two more grooslings and is now preparing them to be cooked. I place all the berries and roots I have gathered in a pile and sit down, waiting for Katniss to be ready to go start a fire. Neither of us speaks for a while, contemplating the sad truth that one of us will be dead soon, I suppose. Maybe we will both die.

Finally, we move off to cook the birds. I help start and tend the fire, and once Katniss takes over, I climb up a tree and keep watch until our dinner is ready. When the food is finished cooking, we return to our boulder and eat the little feast we have prepared.

"Did you know Peeta before the Games?" I ask her to break the silence while we munch on the delicious bird meat.

"We were in school together," Katniss says, "but I don't think we ever spoke. He was always with the more popular kids, and I was more of a loner. Did you know Thresh?"

"No," I answer. "We have a lot of people in 11; I don't think I've ever known anyone who was selected in the Reaping. Is 12 pretty small?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Most families don't have a lot of kids. Coal miners aren't in high demand, anyway."

"Hm. Most parents in 11 have lots of children, though my family is an exception. I only have two siblings while most kids in my class at school have five or six. There's never a shortage of work to be done when your job is agriculture, it seems."

It's interesting to me that Katniss and I come from such diverse cultures, and yet we're not fundamentally different. In fact, even though the Capitol pits the tributes against each other and spends a lot of time exaggerating our differences, we are still just all teenage kids with similar thoughts and goals. That just makes the Games even worse, but it also creates a tiny spark in the back of my mind: united, the districts could stop the Capitol. If only those at home could all realize this, then perhaps there wouldn't have to be these terrible Games anymore.

We continue to chat about various aspects of our districts while we eat, and when evening sets in, we make ourselves comfortable in a tall tree. The sun disappears, the anthem plays, and Marvel's face appears. My thoughts are drawn again to his family, and I feel anger course through my veins. This is another reminder of the injustice we have been allowing for seventy-four years.

The sun's morning light greets me after a night of solid sleep, but it is not welcome because I can't think of a single reason to keep the alliance together. Both Katniss and I begin to soberly pack up our things and split up the food supply more or less equally. I hand her the medicinal leaves I've collected, but at first she refuses.

"Take them; I've got no reason to keep them. I'm not the one with stings."

Katniss frowns at the leaves, still unwilling to accept more aid from me. "If you don't bring these with you, I'll follow you until you need them," I say stubbornly. She lets out a sigh, rolls her eyes, and takes the leaves.

While I am still trying to decide how I can follow Katniss and so maintain at least a part of my strategy, the voice of the Hunger Games announcer, Claudius Templesmith, echoes through the Arena. He announces that the rules have been changed, and now there can be two victors if they are from the same district.

"Peeta," Katniss gasps beside me. She looks at me, eagerness combined with worry in her eyes. "Did you see him at all after we ran from the Careers? Do you know where he would be?"

I shake my head sadly. "If I had to guess, I'd say upstream beside the river since he's got to have water and can't be by the lake, but I really don't know."

My mind is racing with this new information. Thresh and I are on fairly good terms, and now he would never refuse and alliance with me. Maybe I could still accomplish my strategy with him. But this isn't how it was supposed to work! If the possibility of two tributes is now a factor, then my strategy would probably be best accomplished if I stayed with 12. But Katniss doesn't want me with 12, and for good reasons.

Despite all the conflicting factors, I decide to go find Thresh. At least I can fulfill a part of the strategy that way, and even if I could do better here, I would rather go after the possibility which is more likely to bring me success.

"Katniss, I hope you and Peeta stay alive," I say, no lie in my words. I pull her into a tight hug, unable to stop myself after all we've been through in the past few days. "If you win, tell your sister I said hi."

Katniss smiles back at me and nods. "Good luck, Amaranth. And thank you."

Then we are both hurrying off in different directions. Katniss disappears into the trees headed towards the river and I am off toward the Cornucopia. I have no guarantee about where Thresh is, but I would suspect that he has made himself comfortable in the field of tall grass near the lake and the Cornucopia. It seems like the logical choice since he probably worked in the fields at home and will know all about grain.

The journey takes me a long time since I have to avoid the clearing with the Cornucopia. When I come within a hundred yards of it, I take to the trees in order to avoid both traps and Careers. There are only two of the original pack left, but they're a district pair, and at least one of them will probably be hunting right now.

By the time the sun sets, I am on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, right next to the field. It is a very ideal location to be, especially for those with knowledge of how to use it. The grass is taller than I am, and I cannot see more than a few yards ahead. There could be anything, whether something Thresh constructed or a surprise from the Gamemakers. I enter cautious, hoping that Thresh will know that I'm coming.

I push past the tall, yellow grasses feeling more like I'm swimming than walking. After a few moments, I decide to risk it and call out for Thresh, though I still keep my voice down. I am nearly sure that someone is watching me, but I cannot see anybody, which only makes the sensation worse. Finally, the suffocating silence of the field is ended.

"Took you long enough."

I let out a laugh as my anxiety abates and turn around to see Thresh standing behind me as if he had been there a while, his arms crossed and his expression one of humor. He probably _has_ been waiting for me all day; I doubt he's even spoken to anyone else since Chaff told him goodbye ten days ago. An ally is surely a comfort, especially since we can now both survive.

"It wasn't exactly a short walk," I say, smiling back.

 **. . .**

 **Remember to review! What do you think of Amaranth's new choice of ally?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: And the story continues! I hope you are all enjoying the progression; I realize it hasn't been all too riveting as of late, but it's about to really pick up—trust me. I think there are about five more chapters, so clearly a lot still has to happen. I'd love to hear what y'all think; be sure to give me some feedback!**

 **. . .**

Despite our joy at having formed an alliance based on mutual trust rather than selfish interests, the event doesn't really spur on any ambitious goals. Thresh has dug a hole and piled broken stalks of wheat around it for his shelter, which is the best one can do in this field. He shows me the heads of wheat that, now that I know their appearance, seem to be on every side. Thresh has not been going hungry.

I did not arrive with much time left in the day, so the sun sets before my ally and I have discussed much. I promise to tell him the full story of what has been going on in the Games from my point of view tomorrow, and he seems genuinely interested. I tear down some stalks and make a nest-like bed a few feet away from Thresh's den. He offers to let me take the hole, but I decline, saying that my blanket will make me plenty cozy.

As a matter of fact, it is very hard for me to sleep on the ground. It's not that I am uncomfortable; it's that I feel incredibly vulnerable. In a tree or in a house, I never have much to worry about because I am out of view. But here, I have no visibility beyond a few yards, and yet I am thrust out for the whole sky to watch. I toss and turn for more than an hour after the anthem plays before finally falling asleep.

The following morning I make good my word and tell Thresh all that's happened to me so far. I talk about the fire, my alliance with Katniss, and our success of blowing up the Careers' supplies. This fact especially seems to please Thresh, and he grins when he hears that there was nothing left.

"Let them work on something other than killing for a change," he says with a huff.

Since the meat I have will go bad soon, we eat it around noon, and I know my ally is glad of a change. After we've eaten, he relates the very uneventful time he's had since coming to the field. Besides eating and sleeping, nothing has really happened. But I suppose that in the Huger Games, uneventful is a blessing.

"What do you think Cato and Clove will do now?" I ask when we've finished our stories. "Will they come here to kill us?"

"I doubt it," Thresh replies. "They are afraid to come in here, and if there are other tributes to focus on first, that's who they'll go after."

"I wonder how well that will work out for them," I murmur. "Katniss has a bow; they can't both make it out of an attack on the group from 12. And I don't think I've even seen the girl from 5 since the Games started. If she manages to stay hidden, the Careers might be forced to take us on."

Thresh nods slowly. "Maybe, but I'd say we've got several days before that happens, if the Gamemakers will leave us alone, that is. That's the only thing I'm worried about right now, since either a flood or a fire would flush us out of here."

"Speaking of floods, where have you been getting water?" I inquire.

"There are some little streams that irrigate the grain," Thresh explains, "but they are hardly more than long puddles. We really need a way to filter the water so that we don't take in as much dirt as water when we drink. And digging doesn't make the water any deeper; I tried. If it did, then I could use some fabric at a bottle's neck to keep the dirt more or less out. But unfortunately, the stream isn't exactly natural."

I know that this must be a result of the Gamemakers' desire to force Thresh and I to leave the field occasionally for clean water. But the Gamemakers don't know what it's like to live in one of the poorest districts in Panem. Clean water isn't common at home, so water with a lot of dirt here is annoying, but not bad enough as to make us leave our safety.

It seems wrong to simply sit around without doing anything, so Thresh and I are forced to keep ourselves busy, even though our labor is expended on unnecessary tasks. I guess that technically we are benefitting our status by digging another den-like bed, harvesting an extra supply of wheat, and trying to make a system that would filter the mud, but really those things don't matter much. I am glad to get to know Thresh, though. He is kind underneath all that brute strength, and his laugh never fails to make me laugh too.

I have eaten so much wheat today that I am not hungry when we lay down to sleep, each in our own hole. Mine is only about a foot deep, but somehow it does make me feel more secure. Besides, with all the grass piled around me, I bet it will insulate me better. The anthem plays and no faces appear. My stomach twists when I wonder how the Gamemakers will find a way to start making things more interesting.

The following day is much like the first. No signs of the Careers ever appear, and Thresh and I spend the long hours eating grain and trying to filter mud. But we are soon confronted by a problem: the water has been contaminated. I don't know how severely, but we can both tell by the taste that something is very off. For the time being, we just don't drink, but I know that eventually this will drive us out of the field.

I suppose this is the Gamemakers' way of bringing about a new round of violence, but when the voice of Claudius Templesmith's disturbs the silence in the late afternoon, I see that our water shortage is part of a bigger plan.

"Attention tributes: you have all been invited to a feast. Now hold on. Some of you may be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you need something desperately. Each of you will find that something in a backpack marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia, at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."

I look slowly at Thresh, who for a moment does not speak. I know what the feast must have for us, and it makes me thirsty just thinking about it. A water filter. But if we want to go for it, we've got to be ready to pay a steep cost.

"I'd rather go out of the field once than over and over," Thresh says at last. "But I won't go if you don't think we should."

I am taken aback by the trust he has just put in me. He's letting me decide on such an important decision, almost as if I knew better, which I don't. But I agree with his logic, even if this is a prompt from the Gamemakers, who only want our blood. They may be pulling the strings, but they don't have control of all the variables.

"Let's do it," I consent at last. "If the Gamemakers want us at the feast, they will get us there somehow. So we might as well decide to go while we don't have an extremely severe need."

Thresh nods his head. "Then we better get some sleep; we've got to leave here a couple hours before dawn."

We both get into our dens and try to sleep, but I don't succeed for a while. The feast presents so many dangers, and in the end, the Gamemakers could just be tricking us. If there's anything in the world that can drive me crazy, it's uncertainty, and this situation seems to be saturated in it. After tossing and turning until about midnight, I at last fall into an uneasy sleep.

When Thresh and I awake, we gather our weapons and begin moving towards the Cornucopia. As I grip my spear, I am struck by the realization that I won't be using it, and that might make Thresh vulnerable. But I shake this idea away, hoping that we can get what we need and get away without much confrontation. Yeah right.

We discuss a strategy while we walk, but we both know that it'll be hard to predict what will happen before it's actually occurring. So in the end, we just decide not to go in for the bags first and to stay close together. All the rest we will have to figure out as we go.

Finally we arrive at the Cornucopia. There aren't any other visible tributes, but we know they've got to be somewhere. The waiting for the sun to rise is very tense, and although we don't see any movement, we can feel the others in the vicinity. Finally, our backpacks appear next to the Cornucopia, and the feast is on.

 **. . .**

 **Please remember to review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Sorry for the slight delay in posting! Business from schoolwork has again been fighting my muse tooth and nail. But guys, I have the best news ever! The Texas Rangers are sitting in first place in their division! Sure, it probably isn't a permanent thing, but isn't that the most joyful, wonderful news you've heard for like weeks? What do you mean you don't care?! *sighs* Well, I had to share my excitement with someone; here in Florida, I don't have any fellow fans to celebrate with. And if anyone has read my** _ **Rallying the Rangers**_ **story, you will realize how much of a joy it is to be having a good season right now.**

 **Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading about the feast! Please remember to review!**

 **. . .**

The girl from District 5 zips out from inside the Cornucopia, snatches up her bag, and disappears into the woods before I have even had time to register her position. Thresh eyes me as the girl vanishes and another emerges. He wants us to start moving out, though we are not going to sprint to the bags. I think Thresh hopes to let the other districts fight it out while we get away. His hopes are rewarded.

Before the second girl, which I can now tell is Katniss, reaches the bags, she is attacked by Clove of District 2. Katniss wounds her with a shot to the arm, but is herself hit by a knife, earning her a gash across her forehead. Then the two collide, and Clove gains the upper hand, sitting on top of her victim with a knife drawn. By now, Thresh and I are not far away.

"Get the bag," I say quietly, moving in Clove's blindside towards the two girls.

"Amaranth," Thresh hisses back. "Amaranth, don't interfere with them!"

But I want to anyway. I'm pulled to the situation like I have been magnetized, and suddenly I'm running forward. Cato has not shown up yet and I have a lot of momentum, so maybe this isn't as suicidal as it feels. And I simply can't sit by and watch Katniss be killed, especially when I have power to stop it. Still, a nagging sensation in my mind tells me that doing this is very stupid, but I ignore it as I slam, full-force, into Clove.

The hit knocks the wind out of me, and both of us roll several yards before recovering. Clove was not expecting such a sudden attack—she probably thought Cato was watching her back—but she's quick to retaliate. Her small blade is still clenched in her fist, and she waves it towards me in a fast, calculated motion. I barely collect my wits enough to dodge it, and then I remember the spear still in my hand. I take it and turn it around so that the wooden end points her way, and then I use what little skills I acquired during training to fight back.

I use the wood to block another swipe and then put as much weight as I can into a thrust. The spear, held by an amateur who isn't even using it properly, can only do so much damage, but my blow does push Clove back a few feet. She's seething with anger, and both of us glance briefly in Katniss' direction. She has scrambled to her feet, picked up the bow, and is now grasping for an arrow. Clove and I both know where the first shaft she shoots is going to land.

Clove reacts at the same time I do. She tries to throw her knife at Katniss, but I use the same simple tactic that seems to define my actions. I jump forward and use my body again as a weapon, smashing into Clove and successfully sabotaging her throw. Now she's livid, and in an error that I know will cost her dearly, she grabs my neck and tries to choke me.

Thresh materializes before Katniss fires, and he picks up Clove like a rag doll and knocks her skull with a huge rock. His sheer strength is unnerving, and as he tosses the Career away, he gives me a brief look of annoyance.

"Let's go," he commands.

I chance a glance at Clove, who is likely only seconds away from death, and then turn my attention to the real problem. Thresh has now sized up Katniss, who has fitted an arrow to her string and is pointing her bow at him. He is only a few feet away, and he could likely use his arm to shield his body from the arrow and then kill her. From the fire in his eyes, I think he just might.

"Stop!" I cry, hurriedly standing and getting between the two.

"Amaranth," Thresh says slowly, knowing that now I, unskilled in battle, am an easy kill for Katniss.

"Thresh, please," I beg, looking at Katniss, who can barely see through the stream of blood pouring from her wound. "Let her go this once."

Thresh weighs the options, but it is Cato's emergence from the woods that makes him decide. "Just this one time, 12," he says gruffly.

Before I join Thresh in a run, I shoot one last look at Katniss. Her expression reveals her relief, and I am not ashamed of my actions. I know that what have done is probably unforgivable in Thresh's eyes, but I'm not going to let that get me down. Let the Gamemakers whine about my insubordination; at least I have beaten their feast.

We run into the woods as fast as we can manage, a cannon being the only sound we hear. When we break into the grass of the field, I suddenly notice that Thresh has _two_ bags, not one. That must be Cato's bag, the one with the item he desperately needs. I bet even this field won't keep the last remaining Career away now, but then again, maybe Cato will be out of operation now that his bag is beyond of his reach.

We reach our dens and finally stop, panting and heaving for breath. When we've recovered from the run a bit, Thresh turns to face me and I know that I'm in trouble.

"That was incredibly stupid," he condemns, his voice harsh and irritable. "You could have gotten yourself killed. You could have even gotten _me_ killed. Amaranth, did you leave your brain in District Eleven?"

I try not to grin at his last comment, which wasn't intended to be funny, but I fail. I've been tense and anxious too long, and self-control is nearly impossible. I chuckle a little bit, avoiding eye contact and wondering why things are more funny when they're not supposed to be. To my surprise, Thresh starts laughing too. He doesn't even looks like he wants to, but he does anyway. No matter what horrors we endure here, we are still children.

"Amaranth," he says more gently after our giggling fit has subsided, "please don't ever do something like that again."

I sigh and nod. "Fine. Next time, I'll try to follow your lead. I really am sorry that I betrayed your trust, Thresh. But…I just could let her die. Not like that."

"Well, the harsh fact is that she will have to die if we are to go home," Thresh states, his voice carrying the weightiness of the truth. "There's nothing you can do to change that. I know you mean well, but if your wish for her survival comes true, it will come at the cost of your life and mine."

I want to cry at this moment, but I only nod. How I hate the Hunger Games! To distract my weary mind, I decide that we should take stock of what we now have. I realize that I am without my spear, which makes me wonder first how I could manage to both lose it and not notice until now and second if Cato has found it. But I cannot know the answer to those questions, so I turn my attention to the bags.

"Shall we open them?" I ask Thresh, gesturing to the packs.

He assents and hands me the one for our district. I unzip it and find a strange looking device with two tubes and a central unit. It must be a water filter, though I hope it's easier to use than it appears. I hold it up for Thresh to see.

"You ever worked one of these?" I ask, flipping it upside down.

"Nope," he answers, "but I bet we can figure it out."

"What's in Cato's bag?" I wonder, prompting Thresh to begin opening it.

It's a little bigger in size than ours, and I wonder what a Career with weapons and free roam of the Arena could possibly need. My first sight of the object, which Thresh has drawn out of the pack, doesn't help me much.

"What is it?"

"I think it's armor," Thresh says, feeling the material and turning it around.

When he positions it at a certain angle, I can see how it is indeed clothing. It has long sleeves and pants, leaving only the neck, head, feet, and hands exposed. I take bit of the cloth in my fingers and find it to be slick but very hard, as if it is covering another rigid surface. I bet this cannot be pierced by arrows, making Katniss a much smaller threat.

"You should wear it," I suggest. "Then if Cato comes, you won't have much to worry about."

Thresh smiles. "I seriously doubt this tiny thing would fit me, and unfortunately, I think it's also quite a bit too big for you."

After trying on the armor myself, I can see that he's right. The sleeves go several inches past my wrists, and the pants drag underneath my feet. The excess material would be cumbersome in either battle or flight, and although it is relatively light for armor, it feels heavy on my shoulders.

"At least he doesn't have it," I comment as I climb out of it.

"But he'll want it," Thresh warns. "We should take turns on watch tonight."

I agree, and just as I begin pulling off some heads of grain to calm the grumbling of my stomach, another sound reverberates through the field. Thunder. Both Thresh and I look up to see dark clouds gather more quickly than they could naturally, and we see a wall of rain headed in our direction.

"I do believe we shall be getting some rain soon," I say in a Capitol accent.

"Cato must be on his way," Thresh concludes in a very serious tone. "This is for him and us. We need to be ready."

 **. . .**

 **Please give me some feedback! I would really appreciate learning what you guys think of the story so far as we get closer and closer to the end!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Surprise! Early-ish update! I hope you all enjoy this chapter; I will try to update again soon. We are so close to the end!**

 **. . .**

From Thresh' declaration on, I feel almost sick to my stomach. The idea that Cato is hunting us without any distractions or other interests is unnerving, especially considering how ruthless the Career is. And Thresh killed Clove, so Cato will undoubtedly make any death from District 11 a hard one.

As the sun nears the horizon and the rain begins to pour, Thresh and I try to make alterations to our position that would benefit us in the event of defense. The obvious problem is, of course, the precipitation. The field doesn't really have high ground, and already the water level has made the whole place a two inch puddle. It will only get deeper, and we are faced with the decision of staying and risking the flood or leaving and losing the advantage we had. I wait for Thresh to tell me what to do because I am utterly unqualified to make this choice.

Finally, we begin moving. Thresh leads us in the opposite direction of the Cornucopia, and even though we haven't been going all that long, the water is already past our ankles. The unyielding, almost suffocating wetness all around makes me want to scream, but I pull myself together and keep going, knowing that Cato might be anywhere.

Thresh continues to take me forward, and after a long while, we come to the end of the field. Then we veer left and enter the woods, moving at the same fast walk that we have kept up the whole time. My legs are tired, and I desperately want to be somewhere dry, but we have to keep going.

Finally, when night falls and we can no longer see anything, we stop. I know the rain must have greatly hindered our progress, but it still feels like we must be miles and miles away from the field. I wonder what our strategy will be and what the Gamemakers will do now that we're out of tall grass, but fortunately I don't have to wait for an explanation.

"We'll stay out of the field for a day," Thresh says, his voice barely heard above the downpour. "Then the next day we go back to the field, and hopefully Cato will have already searched it and begun looking someplace else. He's not a very patient hunter."

"What if the field is flooded?" I ask.

Thresh shrugs. "Then I guess we'll come back into the forest."

The plan seems decent enough to me, and I'm exhausted, so I decide it's time for us to rest. I naturally climb a tree to sleep, but Thresh absolutely refuses to even try, so he sits at the base of the trunk. I take the first watch, but the only thing that happens is the playing of the anthem and the appearance of Clove's face in the sky.

I think about Clove as I work to keep my eyes open and alert. Clove was a Career and a killer, but she was also a child, a daughter, and perhaps a sister or girlfriend. People are mourning for her right now, crying that their courageous young Clove will be courageous no more. Her death was entertainment for the Capitol, and next year, no one will know her name.

I hate these Games.

When it is Thresh's turn to keep watch, I fall asleep almost instantly. Like I would have expected, he allows me to sleep longer than I should have, but I was so tired that I am hardly sorry he let me. The night passes very slowly when I am on watch, but finally the dawn arrives. Or at least, we assume that the eastern light is the dawn, because the rain is still coming down very heavily, and it's not easy to see into the distance.

I come down from the tree and we eat a modest breakfast. If we're not going to the field until tomorrow, I wonder what we will be doing all throughout today. I don't want to bother Thresh with questions that he may take as an undermining of his plan, but I think he understands my curiosity, even though I don't ask anything.

"Why don't you get some more sleep?" he suggests. "As long as we remain quiet and hidden, we can spend the day as we chose."

This is encouraging, and after nearly two weeks in the Arena, my sleep deficit is quite large. I could probably sleep for days if I had the mind to. With a grin of thanks to Thresh, I climb back up the tree and fall asleep again.

I awake after noon has passed, and I slip down the trunk and join Thresh again. We eat more wheat and a handful of nuts, and I forage a few berries and leaves from the area around our tree. I would go farther away to gather more, but Thresh insists that we stay together, and I'm not about to break his rules again.

I tell Thresh to get some extra sleep, and I stay up in the tree branches while he naps. I let him sleep a while, and when the empty hours between lunch and dinner have finally ticked away, I wake him and we eat again. This day seems eternal with the constant dripping being the only thing to hear and see. Thresh and I talk a bit after our meal, but there's little to say. When it gets dark again, we repeat the same procedure of watching and sleeping as last night.

By the time light appears on the edge of the horizon, I am ready to leave if only it will give us something to do. There hasn't been the slightest sign of any tributes, and no deaths were reported last night. That can only mean that the audience is getting bored, and I fear that District 11 will be involved in whatever is designed to spice up the Games next.

Thresh and I slosh through the mud back towards the field, going along very cautiously. If Cato has already left the field, he could be in the forest at this moment. If he is still among the tall grasses, we may run straight into him when we enter the field. Thresh pauses every few minutes to listen and look for any signs of the predator, but we never find any, so we continue on.

At last, the yellow grass of the field is visible about ten yards ahead of us. I am surprised to see that the area has not been flooded after all, though it still has several inches of rain accumulated on the ground. Perhaps the Gamemakers think that a kill would look better out there than in the woods. The thought makes me shiver.

Thresh then turns to me and surprises me further. He hands me both Cato's bag and our backpack containing the now laughably useless water filter. I now have three packs, and I am totally oblivious as to why.

"Keep these," he says. "I am going to take a look. You stay here."

"What?" I ask incredulously. "What happened to sticking together?"

"Just do it," he answers. "I'll be back in a minute."

And so Thresh walks into the grass alone, and I am left helpless in the tree line. To ready myself in case I have to run either forward or in retreat, I open the bag I snagged at the Cornucopia on the first day and stuff the District 11 pack inside it. It's a close fit, but at least now I only have to carry two things.

I hear rustling and automatically tense up, but it is Thresh who emerges from the grass. He looks up at me and shakes his head, and I sigh with relief.

"No Cato so far," he says, "but we still need to be very careful. He could be anywhere."

As if on cue, a figure suddenly appears on the tree line about a hundred yards left of where we're standing. It is only because the person is right between the tall grass and the forest that I can see him at all, but that glimpse is more than enough. It's Cato, and he is just exiting the field and heading into the trees. Or at least he _was_ just exiting; now he casually turns his head in our direction and spots us.

"Thresh, it's Cato!" I cry, pointing to the Career in fear.

"Run, Amaranth," Thresh commands, pushing me into the field and following after me. "Run!"

 **. . .**

 **Sorry for the cliffhanger, but…okay, I'm not all that sorry. ;) Reviews will spur me on towards faster posting! Please give me some feedback!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: And again, we have an early-ish update. You're welcome. I guess I'm still in a good mood since the Rangers are still in first place. This chapter was very hard to write, and I could never quite agree with myself on how it should go or what should happen. I'd really appreciate knowing what you guys thought of it. Do you think I did a decent job here?**

 **. . .**

I have no trouble obeying Thresh, especially since he's not attempting to stay and fight. We both know that Cato has at least one weapon whereas all we have access to are rocks, and so running through a field that we know well seems most logical. Thresh comes up beside me and takes my hand, guiding me through the grasses without a word or even a gesture. We would be so much better off if the loud splashing of our feet didn't give away our location. But we press on, twisting and changing our path and keeping our pace at a solid run.

The storm is more violent now, with lightning flashing and thunder rolling. There is some wind too, always blowing the rain into my eyes and tempting me to close them. But I have to keep stay alert; I have to be ready for anything.

I don't know if it's his years of training or a steady supply of good food from sponsors, but Cato is gaining on us. I only chance a couple of looks in his direction, but the grass cannot swallow him up, and every minute he seems closer. On and on we run, and I begin to wonder how far the field goes. Surely we have gone more than a mile from the original tree line, and still the sea of grass surrounds us on all sides.

After more than twenty minutes of running, the grass begins to thin out up ahead. I have never been to this part of the field before, and I can only guess that Thresh is taking us into the woods to some defensible place. We can't run forever, and if my legs are burning as they carry my fairly thin frame, I cannot image how much this run must be taxing Thresh's body.

I will never know how Thresh and I would have held up had we been able to successfully escape the field together. Just when I see a stretch of rough ground leading to nothingness that indicates a steep drop off—probably a cliff—up ahead, Thresh grunts beside me and stumbles. We both stop, me sliding to a halt, and him sprawling onto his hands and knees. Cato is only a few yards back, and his hand is empty. My mind wonders why for only a second before I see the dagger in Thresh's back.

"Thresh!" I cry, but he shoves me away.

"Go. Now." His voice is strained and full of pain, but the words are clear. I shake my head, but something in his eyes is so compelling that I do what he says, tears stinging my eyes.

Cato is still running towards us, and now he has unsheathed a sword. I cannot turn to look at Thresh until I am at least fifteen yards off, and then I chance a glance behind. Cato has stopped pursuing me, so I halt in my tracks and take in the situation, wishing there was something I could do.

Cato wears a sadistic grin as he moves toward my ally, who is slowly turning around to face his foe, and I feel my face twist into a horrified grimace. I hurried look around for a projectile, and finally my shaking hands grasp a coin-sized rock. When I turn back, I see Cato plunge the sword into Thresh's chest. The boy from 11 hasn't given up, though. His bare hands grab the blade and yank it away, but Cato is strong, too. He slams Thresh' face with his knee, sending the injured boy onto the ground, flat on his back. Cato retrieves his sword and stands over his fallen prey, ready no doubt to make a death the audience won't forget.

It all happened so fast, before I could make sense of it. But now I have gathered my wits, and I scream in anguish as I send the rock speeding for Cato's head. It smacks his skull with force, not quite enough to knock him unconscious, but enough to mean he'll have a bad headache for a week. And definitely enough to get his attention.

At that moment, when Cato's angry eyes meet mine, something suddenly happens that would amaze me if I had the time to be amazed. Rather than not knowing what to do, as I usually find myself, I come up with an idea out of thin air and put it into action immediately.

I hold up Cato's bag and wave it tauntingly, displaying more confidence in this second than I have in any other year of my life. "Cato," I say in a mocking voice. "isn't this that bag that you need desperately? I must say, your taste is questionable, but all the same, don't you think you had better fetch it before I sling it down to my other ally?"

Cato is livid, and while I am not sure he believed what I said about another ally, he looks at the bag—and me—with fire in his eyes. He looks down at Thresh, but then makes his decision. With an eerie growl, he sprints in my direction.

I take a few steps toward the precipice and heave the bag over it. The descent looks to be difficult, but certainly not impossible. And if I know much about Cato, it's that he is very proud and he'd feel so much less vulnerable if he had that armor. And truly he would be, so maybe what I'm doing is stupid, but I don't care. Thresh is all that's on my mind right now.

The pack tumbles down a long way before sliding to a halt far below. "Hurry; he's coming for it!" I shout down the cliff for good measure before sprinting away to the right where there are a few trees.

To my joy, Cato goes right after it. Maybe it's been bothering him that he lost the bag and his haughtiness really is in control right now, but I suppose it's also possible that he was wounded or something and doesn't want to fight without the armor. No matter what the cause, Cato has followed the bag down the steep slope, and I know that I have at least a few minutes before he comes back.

"Thresh!" I call, sprinting with all the energy left in me to where my ally lies. "Thresh!"

I find him in only a few seconds, still on his back, blood tricking freely from his wounds. I collapse, sobbing, right next to him. I haven't heard a cannon, but I know that he will die for sure. I am not even certain if he is conscious.

"Thresh," I plead, grabbing one of his massive, bleeding hands in mine and pulling it close. "Thresh, can you hear me?"

His eyes flutter open, and he heaves in a labored breath. "Amaranth," he says, as if he had at first had trouble placing me. "Cato?"

"He's taking a detour over the cliff," I answer, producing a smile on both our faces, though mine feels forced.

What do I say? How can I possibly encourage him right now? He's _not_ going be alright, things are _not_ going to be okay, and he's _not_ going to be the victor. And in addition to my own blank mind, I am crying, so any words might not be coherent anyway. Thresh looks more composed that I am.

"I don't want to be forgotten," he finally whispers, his eyes full of fear. "I don't want to be their cast off toy."

I have never seen his gaze like that before, so lacking in courage and steadfastness. Now he truly is a child, a dying child who needs someone to tell him that he is loved. I obviously don't love him like Peeta has professed to love Katniss, but there is another kind of love, a brotherly kind that can occur between any two people, and that's what I have to offer.

"You will never be forgotten," I say as firmly as I can manage. "Not by me, not by the other tributes, not by the audience. And you are not theirs; they cannot own your soul. You never played the Games by any rules other than your own, and you died free. That's better than living as a slave, right?"

"You think so?" he wheezes.

"I know so, Thresh." I swallow, more tears spilling onto my cheeks. Then I press the same simple illegal sign into Thresh's hand that I showed to Seeder before the Games. "Do you know this?"

"I have…heard it…" he trails off. His strength is failing, and what I have to say I must say now.

"Thresh, what they say is true. About freedom, about joy, and about life. Believe it, and death won't seem so bad. I promise."

I wish that I could speak in plainer terms, but to alert the Capitol to the illegal group's existence would mean death to many people. So for now I stick with this method, and since Thresh smiles a little, I think it's worked well enough. He grips my hands in a vice-like hold and searches my eyes for strength as his own departs, but I think he can see it there. I do have a solid rock on which to stand, though I have never known its true might until now.

Thresh's eyes lose focus and his hand's grasp releases. The cannon fires, and although I want so badly to stay and tend to Thresh, I know that I have already been fortunate to have this long. Cato could be here any second, and I must make use of the lead I have. I lean down and kiss his forehead, whispering, "Farewell," as I rise. Then, without a backward glance, I sprint into the forest.

 **. . .**

 **Please review! This was so hard to do…I loved Thresh more and more as I wrote him! I hope I did him justice.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Here's another chapter—the second to last one, if you don't count the epilogue. I hope you are all enjoying the story; please don't forget to review as we near the end!**

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When I am a hundred yards into the woods, I look back and don't see any sign of pursuit. I keep running for five minutes and then take to the branches above. This, of course, slows my going, but if Cato is running after me, he'll never see me in the trees. The lightning presents a danger, but I don't feel that the odds of my specific tree being struck are that great, so I disregard the possibility of being fried.

Reality seems unreal now; the world, with its sounds, sensations, and sights, is distant to my eyes. I am running because I know I am supposed to, but I am hardly afraid. In fact, I don't feel anything. If I make it somewhere safe alive, I may very well weep for Thresh. But now my body has shut my thoughts and emotions off, and I suppose that is for the best. It may help me survive.

When at least an hour has passed since I ran from the field, I climb up higher into the trees and stop, giving my worn out legs a rest. Now that my mind has more opportunity, I know I need to consider what to do next. My strategy failed to keep Thresh alive, and for a moment I wonder if it's failed altogether. But then I remember that the tributes from 12 are still alive, and while I may not be very welcome with them, I know I have to try to continue with my strategy.

After I've rested a bit, I continue through the tree tops. I think the rain is dissipating now, and the lighting and thunder have ceased. I try to calculate what time it is, but I can't put all the events of today together without some sort of landmark—like the sun's location in the sky—to guide me. I decide to keep going until it's too dark to see.

The day seems much longer than normal as I continue through the forest, and I wonder if things happened more quickly in the field than I thought. But even though I am very near my physical limit, I keep on walking and climbing as long as there's light to do it. At last, I am sure that it is darker than before. The rain is only a drizzle now, and I hope it stops altogether soon. The anthem plays and I finally stop my trek. Thresh's face appears overhead, but I try not to think about him as I find a cozy tree and tie myself to a branch. I fall asleep almost instantly.

I don't wake up until dawn the next morning. The skies are clear, but I am still wet and cold from the night before. Cato is nowhere to be seen, and I believe he has probably gone after 12 at this point. I groan as I realize that this means I have to get to Katniss and Peeta first, and after sleeping for so long and using the treetops to travel, I am probably far behind Cato. And I don't even know where the tributes of 12 are.

Before I can leave, the grief of Thresh's death hits me like a battering ram. I bend over and cry and cry and cry, heedless of nothing else except the fact that he's gone. By the time I have more control of myself, my eyes are red and puffy and my nose is running. I drink some water and fill up my bottle from a puddle, and then I truly do start out.

My biggest problem is that I don't know where I am. Thresh and I took so many turns in the field, and even when I was by myself in the woods, I purposefully did not keep a straight path. So when I come across a very tall tree, I climb up as I high as I can and try to get a look around.

I only see a mass of trees in every direction, but to my left, I see one area where the trees seem to end for a while and then pick up again, though I can't be sure since the ground is obscured be the branches of other trees. That could be the Cornucopia, and since it can't be more than a couple miles from here, I strike out in that direction.

Since I continue to travel in the treetops, it's slow going to the treeless place. It takes well over an hour to arrive, but when I do, I am rewarded with the sight of the Cornucopia, sitting all alone and glistening in the sun. Most of the grass around it is dry, and I wonder how much it rained here. I take a chance and cut straight across the field, but since Cato is going after 12, I'm not too worried. Even if he does chase me, at least I can lead him away from my potential allies.

I am just thinking about the other tribute, the girl from 5, when a cannon booms. I stop in my tracks and look up, glad for once that without the trees above, I have a full view of the sky. A hovercraft comes into the Arena and lifts a body out, carrying it off. I take note of where it landed, but I am not sure if I should strike out for that location.

If it was the girl from 5, it is likely that Cato found her and killed her. If it was a tribute from 12, then I should hear another cannon soon, for if they are a team, I don't think one will get killed without the other either dying or killing the attacker. I seriously doubt Cato has been killed, though I suppose it's possible. No matter the case, it seems like Cato will be there.

I shrug my shoulders and decide to risk it. If Cato is there, I will just have to make sure he doesn't see me. Maybe it would be a good thing if I find him; then at least I'd know where he is and therefore erase the worry of the unknown.

Before going, I check around the Cornucopia to see if there are any supplies I can snag. The explosion seems to have demolished everything, and if there had been some items left over, they have been scavenged. But I take the opportunity to eat in a place with 360 degrees of view of my surroundings, and I feel better when I start going again.

The hovercraft must have been further off than I thought. I have not seen Cato or the tributes from 12, and at dusk I am still a good hour's journey from the spot where the body was found. I would rather not travel at night; the past forty-eight hours of travel are taking their toll on me. I find a tree and secure myself to it just in time to hear the anthem play. The face of girl from 5 appears, and I can't help but be glad that this means both Katniss and Peeta are alive. But I am still sorry for the red head, and as I fall asleep, I imagine a world without the Games and the premature death they bring.

The following morning, I finish my last handful of nuts and water supply. I can't go without water for long, so as I begin progressing through the forest, I keep my eyes open for steams or pools. Finally I locate a stream, but it is bone dry. At first that strikes me as odd, but then I know the reason: the Gamemakers are drawing us all back to the lake.

I can't help but stomp my foot. Now the best way to find Katniss and Peeta is to go all the way back to the Cornucopia. I could of course continue to look for them in the woods, but if I miss them and we end up going in opposite directions, I'll find myself in the middle of nowhere without allies or water.

Since I know Cato will be heading back to the Cornucopia too, I should be extra cautious. But I'm tired of traveling in the branches when it's so much more efficient to go on foot. I pick up a couple of rocks, just in case I need ammunition, and stay on the ground. Throwing is something I am decent at only when the distance between me and a target is short, but hopefully it'll be enough if the time comes.

It is barely noon when I get back to the Cornucopia, but already the sky is growing dark. This is concerning, and I wonder how far behind the other tributes are. With the time I have, I go to the lake and drink my fill, glad to have water that is more or less clean. I have been fortunate not to get sick, even with my strong immune system.

Then I hear something rushing through the forest, and I snap my head up. Surely whatever it is must be big, at least a tribute if not more than one. But why the running? I figure Cato has found Katniss and Peeta, so I grab my rocks and begin to cautiously sneak towards the disturbed tree line. But before I reach it, Cato bursts into the open and sprints straight towards the Cornucopia. Behind—not in front—of him are the "star-crossed lovers" from 12.

My mind only reels for a second, because everything becomes clear when the first mutt emerges from the trees.

 **. . .**

 **Remember to give me some feedback! I'd really appreciate it in this trying time. *glares at mid-terms and the final week of regular season baseball***


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: At last, it is time for the Games to end. I hope you guys are satisfied with this, the last chapter of my tale. This section is the most important, and it was the one I put the most thought into, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. There will be an epilogue coming soon. Thank you guys so much for reading!**

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There are probably four or five of the mutts, and they seem to be some sort of ravenous wolf-like creatures. But I don't wait to take in the details, and it's dark and hard to see anyway. I get up and sprint for the Cornucopia, which seems to be the only place of refuge now.

Since I start much closer to the target, I reach it first. Cato is only seconds behind me, and he appears both exhausted and wounded. I hate myself for it, but I grab his arms and help him scramble up beside me. After all, if he's blocking the way, Katniss and Peeta can't get up here either.

Cato collapses in a heap behind me and I forget about him as my eyes lock onto the tributes from 12. Will they make it? The mutts are right on their heels, and Peeta seems to have a limp. I extend my arm out, and feel relief when Katniss' hand finds mine. I guess suspicion fades when one is being chased by killer wolves.

I help pull Katniss up and then we both assist Peeta. The mutts reach the Cornucopia just as Peeta climbs up, slamming themselves into the metal sides and snapping their huge fangs in an attempt to catch anyone too near the edge. But suddenly we have another problem.

Cato, sword in hand, lunges towards us. The blow catches on Katniss' bow, which is metal and does not break, and the sword glances to the side. Peeta is on his feet, and he shows his strength when he grabs the slightly off balance Cato and flings him to the other side of the Cornucopia. I find myself completely useless, but then a clanging noise tells me that Cato dropped the sword on impact. I hurried dive for it, and when my fingers close around the hilt, I stand, hoping to make use of some of the skills I picked up in training.

But when I reassess the picture, it looks like the fighting has ceased momentarily. Katniss has another arrow fitted to her bow, but Cato has Peeta in a headlock and is using the boy almost like a shield. It's a stalemate.

Until Peeta gestures to Cato's hand, that is. Katniss and Cato know what that means before I do, but I figure it out when Katniss' bow twangs and an arrow imbeds itself into the Career's hand. Peeta uses the advantage and thrusts his adversary back and off the Cornucopia to the howling mutts below.

Cato's screams fill the air, and although I can also hear the noises of fighting, I know he can't last long. Finally we all hear him fall, and I know that he will be torn to shreds. But they will do it slowly, savoring this kill so that the audience can enjoy some gore.

I think of Thresh and the twisted look of glee on Cato's face as he killed him. The image seeds satisfaction in me, but then another image fills my mind and replaces the one of Thresh and Cato completely. It's of a young man, his bloody and bruised, stretched out in shame. For _me_. It was _my_ fault. It's a picture of something that happened in my past, and I suddenly know what I should to do here and now. It's perfect for my strategy, it's perfect for the audience, and it's even perfect for Cato.

I hold the sword tightly and let out a battle cry, charging after Cato. I leap over the edge of the Cornucopia and land on my feet a few feet away from the mutts, who have stopped their mauling and now seem interested in me. I hear my name being called, probably by Katniss, but I ignore it. With the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I begin the first offensive I've launched at all in the Games.

I swing the sword as hard as I can and feel it slice into the neck of the closest mutt. I rip it out—which by itself take almost more strength than dealing the stroke—and sling it around to hit the face of another wolf that was coming after me. I take a few steps back, prepare my arm for another stroke, and then carry it out. I stab a mutt through in the spine and deliver a few more wounds to the remaining three. But I cannot do this for long.

There is not more room to pull back; the mutts have now encircled me. My advantage has evaporated. Now is the time to just let everything out. I start slashing, hacking, and deflecting with all the stamina my body possesses, and while I know I am being badly wounded, my nerves hardly register anything. All I notice is that I am feeling tired and some parts of me don't work like they should.

Suddenly I refocus my mind and find only one mutt still on its feet. I am amazed that I have managed this, but Cato probably did inflict the wolves with injuries before he went down, and I have seen kids in the Games do extraordinary things when faced with death anyway. I briefly glance down and realize that I am bleeding profusely. My survival is unlikely, even without this one last mutt.

But the wolf doesn't attack me. The Gamemakers must have control of it, and they know that Katniss is low on ammunition. Perhaps she only has one arrow. It occurs to me that I cannot be allowed to win the Games; the Gamemakers don't want me to because of all I've done against them in the Arena, and Katniss killing me makes it look a lot better than me dying almost like a martyr. So whether it's to force Katniss to kill me personally or just because the Gamemakers love watching members of alliances kill each other, the wolf sets it sights on the Career instead of me.

Cato, who I find is about two yards behind me and to my right, is still moaning, I notice, and I even think he sees the wolf coming. But I know I can intersect the mutt's path, though I have less than a second to do it. Without any thought or real strategy left, I put into action the skill that I seem to have used more than any other in these Games. I throw myself in front of the mutt.

This time, with my adrenaline having run down, I do feel more of the pain as teeth and claws imbed into my flesh. But I still have enough power to swing the sword in my hand, and after a few blows to the head, the mutt stops tearing at me and falls down, dead. I almost fall with it, but I use my last big of physical strength to step towards Cato before collapsing near him.

My face is not in the ground, so I can see a bit of what Cato is doing. All of his exposed flesh is mutilated badly, but I think his armor is holding in whatever blood would pour from internal injuries. His hand—I think—is messing with something just below his neck. It's suddenly so hard to think that I can't really understand what he's doing. Finally I hear a strange noise, and I see that he has unzipped his protection. I let out a groan of my own when I understand. He's letting himself bleed to death.

"What…world…" Cato slurs out, trying to make his lips and tongue move together, "do you…live in?"

"Same one as you," I say, surprised to hear my own voice so broken and terrible sounding. "I just see things…differently."

Then I do the hardest thing physically and emotionally that I've ever done in my life. I crawl, pain shooting through my body like fire, towards Cato. I finally reach him, and since I can't sit up, I just roll onto my back right next to the place where he lays. I have been by the side of two dying tributes already, one an ally and one and enemy. I decide to make it an uneven three with someone who was my enemy, but is probably willing to change his mind.

"Cato," I rasp, nearly choking on my own blood, "how would you like to form an alliance?"

I think he chuckles, but since it ends in coughing, it's tough for me to tell for sure. His bright eyes, which are still clear and alert, search mine intently, looking for an explanation. I know I have to elaborate, but talking has just become torture, so I take a few seconds to build up the willpower.

"An alliance in death," I continue. "Where we defy these Games and set aside transgressions. Die together." I struggle to beat back the darkness closing in on my vision, threatening to swallow me up. "Do you know forgiveness, Cato? I do. Now I want to extend some of my own for all of Panem to see."

Cato's eyes mist over a bit, and he seems to be processing all I've said. His pride and confidence, which once defined him, have fallen away in this moment of pain and humiliation. Death, when staring one in the face, tends to make things once so important seem trivial. Cato can no longer bring pride to his district; he has lost, and now is revealed to be only a pawn in the hand of the Capitol. But that's why I want to do this: to show that we can break free of that, even though we are about to die.

A tear slips out of Cato's eye and rolls down his torn cheek. I now notice that I am crying myself, and I wonder how much longer the Gamemakers will tolerate this. I hear a dull thump, I know that Katniss and Peeta and coming to investigate. We may be out of time.

I stretch out my hand, no matter how much it hurts, and place it an inch from Cato's. It's all up to him now, but he hardly hesitates. His hand closes over mine, creating something that cannot be described in words. All I know is that I feel warm, and a smile creeps up my lips. Cato smiles too, and then closes his eyes, perhaps experiencing peace for the first time in his life. A cannon sounds, but I hardly hear it at all. Cato is gone.

Now here I am, surprisingly still alive, but judging by my lack of sensation and the pool of redness around me, I don't think I will outlive Cato by much. I shift my focus from my ally to the other two tributes standing in the mouth of the Cornucopia. They are confused, understandably, but Katniss has not loaded her bow. She seems conflicted, but after a moment of standing still, she begins to walk towards me.

"Amaranth," she says gently, kneeling down beside me, "you're an idiot."

I want so badly to laugh, but I think that could literally be the death of me, so I limit myself to a wide grin. Peeta come over too and sits beside Katniss, both probably not sure what to do with me.

"I guess your strategy didn't work out in the end," Katniss says, not without sadness in her tone. "You got pretty close, though. If only you hadn't gone off and tried to take on the mutts, who knows? You might have won."

I know she's just talking to give me something to hear, but I jump on the opportunity to reveal the truth. "No. Don't you understand? _This_ was my strategy all along."

She creases her brow in confusion. "To die?" she clarifies.

"To help someone else live. To…save a life."

"Why?" Katniss asks after a pause, undoubtedly voicing the question of many people in the audience.

"Hope," is all I can say, but when I realize that she has my hand in her own, I give her something else. The sign. I write it into her hand, but I don't say anything. I don't want her to face Capitol questioning about it later, and I figure she'll ask someone eventually. "I have…hope," I repeat, wanting to draw the attention to my face and mouth and away from my hand.

Katniss seems to get the message, and she nods. "Well, you've got more hope than anyone I've ever seen before," she says. She appears to want to say more, but she can't decide. At last, Peeta is the one who speaks.

"Thank you, Amaranth. Katniss might not be here without you, and neither would I."

"Thank you," Katniss whispers, a tear running down her face.

"Use your lives well," I charge as a fog swirls in front of my eyes. I can barely see Katniss at all, and I know I am on the precipice, but I feel a last flicker of strength. I open my mouth and issue one last request. "Find my hope."

Unlike I always imagined, what finally engulfs me is not darkness and emptiness but a blinding light void of any sting or defeat.

 **. . .**

 **Please be sure to review; do it for Amaranth's sake!**


	18. Epilogue

**Author's Note: At last, here is the epilogue! Sorry it's taken me longer than normal to get it out; things have been CRAZY busy. But before I give you the last bit of this, my thirtieth story on fanfiction, I must warn you: this will contain very minor Mockingjay spoilers. If you don't know who Katniss ends up with and you don't want to, then wait to read this until you have found out. Otherwise, read on! I hope you like the ending.**

 **. . .**

Katniss found herself in the same position she seemed to be in every day. She was curled up on a small couch in the room set aside for Peeta's work, watching her husband paint. His skills never ceased to amaze her, and in the short months they had been married, she had found that his paintings had acquired a brighter feeling. But there was still sadness there, scars left on their hearts and in their work that the Games had inflicted.

"What are you going to paint?" she ventured to ask when Peeta moved to a new canvas.

Peeta shrugged. "You tell me what to make."

Katniss thought about it, but she didn't really have any good ideas. She stood up and stepped towards her husband, taking his colorful hands in her own without noticing that they had paint smeared on them. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed.

"Paint the woods in spring," she finally decided.

Peeta nodded and went to work. Katniss now saw that her own hands were dirty, but before washing them off, she saw something strange. Peeta's hand pressed in her own had created an odd looking indent on her palm, but the picture caused a memory to flicker to life. She absentmindedly put her finger in a glop of paint and drew a sign on her hand, the same one that Amaranth had left on her several years ago.

"What are you doing, Katniss?" Peeta asked when he looked away from his canvas to switch brushes. The mark appeared very much like a lowercase "t", and Peeta gave his wife a grin. "Working on the alphabet? Don't worry; if you keep practicing, I am sure you'll get it eventually."

Katniss gently elbowed Peeta, but she didn't respond. She had no idea what this sign was supposed to mean, and since Haymitch hadn't known about it the only time she'd brought it up, she had forgotten to learn more. Now she was quite curious, and she wondered how she would be able to find out any information about it.

"Amaranth drew this on my palm when we were in the Cornucopia," Katniss said, meeting Peeta's eyes as emotions threatened to take hold of her. "Do you think it means anything?"

"I don't know," Peeta answered, looking intently at the mark. "I have never seen it before as a sign, but if she deliberately drew it, there must be a reason."

Katniss nodded, still deep in thought. "You know how she said 'find my hope'? I wonder if she literally meant that she had a specific hope." Katniss felt that perhaps she was on to something, and her mind continued its train of thought eagerly. "Since her gesture about the mark was given pretty furtively, maybe it was a part of the riddle. Maybe she couldn't openly disclose information about the source of her hope, so she left a clue."

Peeta put down his brush and focused his whole attention on Katniss' theory. "It's certainly possible. That wasn't the first time signs were used in the Arena, and it wasn't the last, either. Maybe we should see the mayor; he probably has access to a database or something. You want to go after lunch?"

Katniss creased her brow as curiosity ate away at her thoughts. "Let's go now."

. . .

"What sort of sign is it?" asked the man to whom Katniss and Peeta had been directed. He was seated across from his two guests, fingers poised to type into his machine, waiting for an answer. Apparently he could instantly search thousands of archives through his computer, and mayor had given Katniss his full assurance that if what she wanted to know was documented, this man could find it.

"It's like a little 't'," Peeta explained, drawing it on the table top with his pointer finger. "But we're fairly certain it's not just a letter."

"Hold on for a few seconds," the man said, typing onto his keyboard and scanning through various lists. Katniss held her hands together, clenching them in anticipation. What had Amaranth been trying to tell her? What could possibly create hope or such strength?

"This is the top result," the man said, turning the screen toward Katniss and Peeta.

On the display was several pictures of the same sign, but in different forms, none of which Katniss had never seen in her day to day experience before. Many had the sign made into a detailed design that was to be hung on a necklace, a few were decorations for shelves, and one was even atop a tall spire on a building.

"What is it supposed to be?" Katniss inquired.

The man turned the screen back around and clicked a few buttons. "It is a cross, an ancient instrument of an especially torturous death. It is the sign of a group that calls itself the Church."

"The Church?" Peeta asked. "What is it, exactly?"

More clicks and buttons. "It is a following of the teachings of a man named Jesus who lived thousands of years ago. Apparently they have a holy book, the Bible, which they profess was divinely inspired by God."

"God?" Katniss wondered aloud. She didn't know anyone believed that sort of thing, and the only reason she knew about it was that in her school, they had taught about the foolish mystics who followed God. Crushed by the Capitol, of course.

"According to this account, the Church somehow survived the Dark Days, and its members met in secret small groups until the Capitol was overthrown. In the past couple years of freedom, they have been able to openly declare themselves and establish formal church buildings, such as the one pictured here." The man showed them the picture of the cross on the spire. "In fact…" Click, click, click. "…there is one such church only a few miles from here. They meet every Sunday morning with admittance being open to all; they could probably answer your questions much better than the computer can."

"The address, please," Peeta said, reading Katniss' mind and giving her a wink.

The man wrote it down and handed them the slip of paper. "Anything else?"

"No; thank you for your time," Peeta replied, standing up and offering Katniss his arm, which she took. Together they walked out of the city hall and back to their house in Victor's Village, hand in hand, each thinking about what they had heard.

"Why would an archaic form of death be a symbol of hope?" Katniss murmured when they stepped in the front door. "None of this seems to make any sense."

"I guess we'll find out on Sunday," Peeta sighed.

But the thought didn't leave Katniss' mind. She recalled how calm and even joyful Amaranth had been during her last minutes of life. There had been something different about her since the beginning, and everyone had noticed. But in those final moments, Katniss knew that the something different was not just a character trait or odd angle. It was something more, and deep down, Katniss wanted to know it. She wanted true healing of her internal wounds, she wanted the security of peace, and she wanted eternal, joyful, steadfast hope.

"Maybe so," was she said, but in her heart, she knew that she had more certainty than that. Amaranth's hope had to be legitimate. Because as her life proved, the odds don't determine everything, and somehow, there is always hope.

 **. . .**

 **I would really appreciate a review from everyone since the story is now complete! I hope this tale has been a blessing to you!**


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